Mindset
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: [Liason]: Courtney hits Elizabeth with her car and then covers it up with an unwitting AJ's help. With Emily in the hospital due to breast cancer, Jason must deal with the prospect of losing the two most important women in his life.
1. 01

**Chapter One**

She raced to the hospital as fast as she could, ignoring the horn blasts and fingers she got from other motorists. Her six-cylinder Acura Legend swallowed up the miles smoothly and efficiently, weaving in and out of the lanes of traffic. Elizabeth maneuvered the car effortlessly, then floored the gas once she hit the open stretch of highway, soaring freely at nearly ninety miles an hour. She'd be damned if she didn't get there soon.

Trust her to be on the outskirts of town when her best friend needed her most.

He revved the bike as quickly as he could, then leapt into motion. The bike jumped forward with a powerful growl and took command of the street. He swerved between lanes, taking a turn at nearly 40 miles an hour. Two minutes ago he had received a call from his mother, saying that Emily's condition had taken a nose-dive for the first.

Now he was flying through the streets, taking all sorts of short cuts to the hospital. He pulled into the garage and made quick work of scouting out a place. He shut off his bike and jumped off, sprinting to the nearby elevator.

_Hold on, Em. I'm coming. I'm here._

"Courtney!" Sonny yelled from the hallway, trying to pull on his trench and push the elevator button at the same time.

"Courtney, hurry!" Carly called, emerging from their penthouse and slamming the door behind her. Her purse dragged on the floor and she quickly grabbed it up, pulling her hair into a quick ponytail and tying it back.

"Wait!" came a cry from inside PH 4. "You guys go on without me! I'll grab Marco and we'll go together."

"Fine!" Sonny yelled back. He turned his attention back to his very pregnant wife, offering a hand to her and bracing the other one around her back. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, helping her in, then punching a button. "We've got to be there for Jason."

Lucky ran into Jake's. Sure enough, there was Nikolas. He raced up to his brother and grabbed his arm, roughly pulling him to the door with no explanation.

"Lucky, what the hell are you trying to do?" Nikolas demanded, tossing his pool cue to Coleman. He allowed his brother to drag him to a chair, where Lucky grabbed his pullover and threw it at him. Nikolas pulled it on haphazardly, still glaring at the younger blonde.

"Do you want to explain something here, man?"

Lucky looked back at him, his blue eyes wide and sorrowful. "We've got to haul ass to the hospital. Emily."

Without another word, Nikolas made a beeline for the exit, Lucky hard on his heels.

Courtney raced up to her bedroom as soon as she heard the elevator doors close. She flung open the door and jumped towards her armoire, flinging open the bottom drawer.

She pulled it wide open and began throwing out extraneous items. Pads, tampons, bras, panties, thongs. Thank goodness Jason never looked in this drawer. Pulling out a pile of silk camisoles, she finally saw what she had been searching for.

She pulled the small bottle out and shook out four pills. _That ought to do it for now_. Quickly dropping the painkiller back in place, she piled her slips and lacy undergarments over it.

She jumped up from her crouched position and ran downstairs, her socked feet making no sound on the carpeted staircase. She skittered towards the kitchen, slipping a little on the hardware floor. She had only a minute, at most, before Marco came up.

She quickly pulled a glass out of the cabinet as she turned on the faucet with her left hand. Testing the water with her finger, she didn't wait before forcing the glass under. She quickly shut the tap and popped all four pills in her mouth, washing them down with a gulp of water.

Taking a deep breath, she waited for her breathing and pulse to slow. This was how it always was. She'd get tired or over-excited, and all she had to do was take a pill and she'd be fine. Alcazar's doctor had advised taking no more than two, but she wasn't worried. After all, she was entitled. She was a mob moll who had just gotten back from being kidnapped and losing her first child. She was entitled; she was _allowed_.

"Miss Corinthos?" came Marco's Spanish accent. "Are you ready to go?"

She placed the glass in the sink and walked calmly out to where he was waiting.

"Not quite," she began, as the guard cocked an eyebrow. "I've got to go to the bathroom."

"So go," Marco replied, waving his hands to the stairs. "Hurry out, and I'll be waiting right here for you, Miss."

Courtney shook her head. "I may be a while, Marco," she lied. "I've been having cramps lately and –"

"No such information needed, I assure you," Marco got out, already wincing at the thought. He really didn't need to know anything about her bodily functions.

"I'm just saying that I might take a while."

He looked at her hesitantly. "Mr. Corinthos asked me to be at the hospital within ten minutes. Leticia is coming also, and I'm to be her guard for the rest of the afternoon."

"Why don't you go ahead?" she asked, smiling brightly. "I'll catch up in, oh, fifteen, twenty minutes."

"I don't know," he began, hesitating. "I'm supposed to-"

"Marco," she interrupted, raising her eyebrows at him. "I'm not Carly. I can drive. I've never had any moving violations or even gotten a ticket."

Marco bit back laughter at her comment. My, how quickly she forgot. In one ear, and out the other.

She didn't notice his amusement and continued. "I'm perfectly capable of driving to the hospital. I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise. And you know Sonny doesn't care if I drive around alone in the daytime."

_Gee, I wonder why_, Marco jeered inwardly. "Fine, Miss, I'll go on ahead. We'll be waiting for you." He turned to leave, but then pivoted to turn back to her. "Don't forget the flowers, Miss."

"Got it, Marco. If you'll excuse me." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and raced up the stairs.

"Glad to," he muttered, closing the door behind him.

The elevator doors opened with a _ding!_ and Jason stepped out. He quickly walked to the information desk, dodging wheelchairs and clueless orderlies. Bobby was shuffling papers in her clipboard when he finally made it.

"Bobby," he gasped, out of breath. "Which room –"

"Jason!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you made it. Room 124. Hurry."

Without another word, he raced off to the ICU. Sprinting down the corridor, he combed the hall for 124. Finally spying it, he hurried towards it and threw it open.

Thirteen pairs of eyes stared back at him. Jason moved quietly into the room, nodding hello to all his relatives and Emily's friends. Alan and Edward smiled sadly at him, while Monica and Ned rose to hug him. Luke, Dillon and Reginald shook his hand, and Lila smiled up at him when he pecked her cheek. Skye and A.J. ignored him, standing together near Alan. A.J. had his hand resting comfortingly on his father's shoulder as he surveyed the rest of the group. Lucky and Nikolas stood close together by the bedside table, Zander on a chair between them. All looked so lost and…. desolate.

AJ patted his father on the back once more before quietly leaving the room, wiping away his tears. Skye stared after him, then turned her attention back to the comatose Emily.

Jason moved silently over to where Sonny and Carly stood. Carly reached for his hand while Sonny clapped him noiselessly on the back, but Jason couldn't keep his eyes off his baby sister's face.

She looked so pale. Like porcelain. Fragile as a doll. Her hair was free and streaming down the pillows, offering a river of chocolate color to the stark hospital interior. An IV was connected to her hand, where a purplish bruise had developed, and an oxygen mask partially hid her beautiful face.

His throat constricted, followed by a sharp pain in his chest. She didn't deserve this. No one did. And if he had it his way, it would have been him on the hospital bed instead of her. It would have been him fighting for his life instead of his baby sister. He was made to fight; she wasn't.

But here they all were; watching her fight and not being able to do a thing to help her. They spoke to her, read to her, sang to her, but none of it seemed to matter. He wondered if they were doing it more for themselves than for her. Trying to make themselves think she was alive.

He shook his head, banishing the thought. Emily was alive, and she would be well. Soon. He just had to concentrate on that, just like everyone else. At least she was here, surrounded by her family and friends.

His blue eyes darted around the room. Speaking of friends…where was Elizabeth?

Elizabeth checked her watch and cursed. Fifteen minutes since Edward had called her, informing her of Emily's condition and imploring her to come as fast as possible. She was in the left lane of the highway, doing an easy ninety five, and yet she felt as if she were crawling.

_Come on, baby_, she urged the car, pressing down more firmly on the accelerator. _Get me to where I need to be_.

"Shit!" Courtney cursed as she narrowly missed rolling her ankle. She took the steps more gingerly, smiling when she hit solid pavement again. She crossed the covered lot quickly to her car and unlocked the door, climbing in.

After adjusting the mirror she started her golden Benz and pulled out of her spot, not wearing a seat belt. She quickly flipped the radio station to the oldies channel and began singing gaily along.

_"My baby does the hanky-panky! My baby does the hanky-panky!"_ Bopping her head to the beat she avoided a fender bender with Sonny's prized Bentley by a hair, prompting a massive sigh of relief from the doorman.

She sped out of the garage, not even fully checking both ways for traffic. Fortunately, the streets were considerably empty, much to her slightly disoriented relief.

Elizabeth spied the exit sign and moved quickly, crossing three lanes in a matter of seconds. Her small car expertly handled the rough treatment and dropped 50 miles to catch the ramp at 40 mph. She sailed along the curve, barely managing to stop in time for the signal.

_Hold on, Emmie_, she thought as she impatiently waited for the signal. _Nothing's going to stop me now. I'll be there before you know it_.

Courtney moved quickly down Van Buren Boulevard, still bopping away to her own odd beat. Her medicine had finally kicked in, and she was sailing on Cloud Nine. Or was it floating? She didn't care.

She reached down to change the radio station again, not even registering that the red light ahead meant she should stop.

As she rolled through the intersection, well above speed limit, she didn't see or hear the other car until it was too late.

The light changed and Elizabeth felt like crying out with joy. Foot on the gas, she propelled her small car forward. Only a couple minutes from the hospital.

She was in the middle of the intersection before she heard the ominous growl. Confused, she looked to her left and her cry of terror died in her throat.

A massive Mercedes was headed right toward her, the blonde driver apparently not even noticing.

She squealed in fright and gripped the wheel tightly, wrenching both arms to the right in a futile attempt to escape the brunt of impact. The rubber burned on the pavement, and the Benz kept on coming.

It's front bumper connected heavily with Elizabeth's fender and driver's seat, shattering the windshield and sending minuscule particles of glass spraying onto her. Her window cracked and the glass fell onto her lap, and her drivers' side door pulled inward as far as possible, sending her car careening into a nearby lamppost.

Effectively sandwiched between the sheet metal, a dazed Elizabeth looked down at the blood covering her small limbs, blinking away the fluid that invaded her eyes.

Her head turned towards the other driver, as of its own volition.

Courtney?

The world grew fuzzy and Elizabeth Webber, head bent over the wheel, slammed into darkness.


	2. 02

**Chapter Two**

AJ pulled his BMW onto the street, checking both ways for traffic. Wiping away the last of his stubborn tears, he reached down and changed the CD to Haydn's third track. Serene music filled the car, and AJ leaned back against his headrest. Driving always did him good, especially now that he never had a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his bloodstream whenever he took the drivers' seat.

He stopped at the signal, flicking on his left indicator. The sharp ring of his cell phone interrupted Haydn's peaceful symphony. Growling, AJ turned down the volume and switched on his car phone set.

"AJ?"

"Skye? What's wrong? Anything change with Emily?"

"Well-"

"Yeah? Come on, what?"

"Well, literally one or two minutes ago, her eyelids flickered, and she made a strange face, as if she was having a bad dream. As if someone was hurting her, or something was causing her pain."

His heart jumped, threatening to pound out of his chest. "And? What happened? What did mom and dad do? Any change in her condition, then?"

"Well, no."

Instantly, his heart sank. Shoulders drooping, he sighed and waited for the rest of her explanation.

"Just as mom and dad jumped up to check her vitals, she dropped out again. They didn't know what it was, if it was some type of sign, anything. We know…nothing."

"Oh."

"AJ? Hon? You there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"What are you doing?"

"Waiting at this damn signal. It's taking forever."

"AJ, I didn't really know if I should ask, but where are you going? Why'd you leave?"

He chuckled sardonically. "Don't worry, Skye," he said reassuringly. "I'm just running home to get that _Captain of My Dreams_ book Em loves so much."

"Oh."

"I'll see you in a bit, okay? The light just changed."

"Ok. Bye."

"See you later, Sis."

He switched the phone set off and moved forward, turning his car carefully into the left lane.

He didn't get too far. The sight before him had him slamming on the brakes in a matter of seconds.

The BMW screeched to a stop, despite the fact AJ hadn't been driving considerably fast. He switched into Park and gawked at the scene before him.

Courtney sat dazed inside her car, gripping the steering wheel with a deer-in-the-headlights look in her bright blue eyes. Her hair was a mess, cascading down her shoulders, and her mouth hung agape. The front fender of her Mercedes was almost detached at the left, and hanging loosely at the right. Headlights smashed, glass sprayed across the road, grille misshapen and twisted. And she just sat there.

AJ surveyed the damage, estimating tens of thousands, at the very least.

But as he turned his head to the right, his estimate shot up. Way up. As did the bile in his throat.

A smoky gold Acura Legend was slammed flush against a lamppost, which was now bent by thirty degrees. The drivers' door was heavily indented to the point where he immediately realized it would take emergency metal cutters to extract the driver.

If the driver was even alive.

Smoke was rising from the smashed hood of the Acura, and he judged the accident couldn't have happened too long ago. Maybe even a couple of minutes.

_Well, literally one or two minutes ago, her eyelids flickered, and she made a strange face, as if she was having a bad dream. As if someone was hurting her, or something was causing her pain_.

He jumped out of his car, leaving his keys in the ignition. Within seconds he was directly between Courtney's car and the small Acura. His ex-wife's eyes met his, and he saw the unchecked fear in them.

"Drive."

Her lashes fluttered. "W-what?"

"Drive. Get out of here."

"W-where?"

"That gas station on Roosevelt. Drive there. Pull into the alley behind it and wait for me." Without sparing her a second glance, he raced toward the crushed car, trying to decipher any movement inside.

Courtney gingerly pressed down on the gas, and when the car drifted forward she pressed harder, tearing away from the scene of the accident and disappearing in the distance. It was a relief her car still worked, and she thanked God profusely as she spotted the filling station. Mercedes' were tough cars, as her brother always said. They'd protect you through thick and thin. They were like tanks. Freaking tanks.

She pulled into the driveway, stepping up her "Hail Mary"s when she saw it was pretty much deserted. Slowing in the sheltered alley, she shut down her car and rested her head on the wheel. And waited for her ex-husband.

"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit shit shit shit shit."

He dared to venture a few steps closer, squinting in to decipher the slightest of movements.

"I'm a freaking idiot." Cursing himself for not having done it sooner, AJ yanked his cell phone out of pocket, flicking it open.

"Port Charles Police Department, Joy speaking."

"There's an accident on the corner of Van Buren and Taft."

"Any injured?"

"Yes –yes. I think there's someone trapped in one of the cars. She's trapped bad – and knocked out."

"Were you a witness to the accident?"

"N-no. I just pulled up and saw her car slammed against the light post."

"What about the other car?"

"There is no other car. I'm guessing that driver lit out of here as fast as possible."

"I'll be dispatching police cars immediately, as well as an ambulance."

"Y-yes, please hurry." Switching off his cell, AJ took a step closer.

The window was shattered through completely, while the windshield was a mass of spiderwebs with large chunks having fallen through. Grimacing, he squinted more, focusing in on the chocolate colored steering wheel and head compartments.

"Oh, shit."

A mass of golden brown tangles shielded the top part of the wheel from view, and two hands were gripping the bottom portion. Two pale, alabaster, delicate hands. With fire engine red nail polish. And a small dot of a birthmark on the left wristbone….

"Oh, shit."

He stumbled back, dazed by his premature discovery. His anxious eyes focused out only to take in the entire view lain out before him.

Acura. Smoky gold. 1994 or 1995. Destroyed. Pale hands. Brown hair. Birthmark. _No no no no no_.

Racing to the back end, AJ searched for the license plate. The red letters **_AND Y NOT_** glared boldly back at him, sparkling with stark contrast against the white background.

_As if someone was hurting her, or something was causing her pain_. 1994 Acura. Hands. Brown. Wrist. Plate. _No no no no no_.

His mind reeled in circles, refusing to grasp what was already before him. Collapsing to his knees on the littered pavement, AJ ran his hands through his hair, head downcast and eyes squeezed shut.

"No, Elizabeth. Not you, too."


	3. 03

**Chapter Three**

_Tip tap tappity tip._

Sitting otherwise still in her car, Courtney nervously tapped her nails on the wheel. It had been fifteen minutes since the accident, and AJ still wasn't here.

_Stupid loser. He probably left me here to rot. Once a bastard, always a bastard._

Her headache was returning, but she hadn't brought along any of her pills. Sighing in frustration, she pulled a cough drop from the dashboard and leaned back in the leather seat. The CD player attachment caught her eye and she pulled out her disk holder, flipping through the disks until she found her Frank Sinatra CD. Slipping it into the drive, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

_"Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away  
If you could use some exotic booze  
There's a bar in far Bombay  
Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away"_

"Mr. Quartermaine, we'll be taking Ms. Webber to the hospital now," the young ambulance attendant informed him. "Will you be accompanying us?"

AJ looked numbly around. The intersection had quickly been closed off, police tape wrapped around the lamp posts and detour signs on all four streets. A large fire engine closed off one side of the intersection, and police cars were strewn nearby in the same fashion.

Elizabeth's Acura had been pulled away from the lamppost, and heavy metal cutters had been used to tear off the door in order to extract her. Glass from the headlights was still littered on the pavement, and police investigators were already inspecting the scene of the accident. Tire treads were being examined, as well as the damage to the car, all in hopes of deciphering the force of impact and any other clues identifying the driver.

Guilt welled up within him, and AJ fought off the tears that invaded his eyes. She was gone. And it was his fault; he'd let her get away. And now he'd have to pay the price. With his guilt, his unyielding conscience. He didn't even know he had one of those.

He turned back to the attendant, who was barking orders to the other paramedics. Elizabeth's small frame, already strapped safely onto a stretcher, was being slowly loaded into the cab of the ambulance. Damn.

"I'm coming, too."

The young man nodded and motioned him into the cab, walking around to the drivers' side and pulling himself in.

He switched on the lights and siren as the other attendants quickly began slamming the doors. "Two minutes to the hospital."

Jason leaned against the wall, his head facing the ceiling. Nikolas walked quietly over and stood next to him, mimicking the older man's stance. Sonny tapped his shoulder and motioned that he and Carly would be outside. Jason nodded and watched them leave.

Emily's condition had improved for a while, but as quickly and unexpectedly as she had revived, she drifted off again. He knew the brief moment of hope had taken its toll on his parents. Watching them, he felt his heart go out to them.

Monica was slumped in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, pulled up directly to her daughter's bedside. Alan stood behind her, head bent sorrowfully, his hands placed tenderly on her shoulders.

Jason's eyes swept quickly around the room. Zander was on the opposite side of Emily's bed, fast asleep. His arms were folded over the blankets, cradling his head, and the boy was out cold. Probably a combination of mental exhaustion, fear, and pain.

Lucky had holed himself into a corner, a glass of water resting next to him. His knees were pulled up halfway to his chest, his elbows resting on them. His hands were in his hair and his head was bowed. Jason could tell he was also half-asleep. The strain of the day had gotten to him as well.

Edward noticed his grandson's wandering eyes. Swallowing, he willed his feet to move and soon stood next to his "prodigal thug". Leaning back against the wall, he shot Jason a sideways glance.

"How are you holding up, my boy?"

Surprised to hear his grandfather's voice, Jason answered as calmly as he could. "I can't believe this is happening."

Edward nodded, his eyes trained sadly on his only granddaughter. "All we can do is hope and pray." He ignored Jason's snort at _pray_, and continued. "She'll be out and about before we know it."

Jason nodded, a soft smile on his face. "Guzzling down cheese fries and sodas with the rest of the Scooby gang."

"Gracious," his grandfather murmered. "Is that what they're calling themselves these days?"

Jason snickered. "Skateboarding through the park with Zander again."

"Horseback riding at Wyndemere again with Nikolas," Edward offered.

"Volunteering at the hospital with Mom."

"Tutoring Georgie in Pre-Calculus."

Jason nodded. "Remember when Georgie was doing parabolas and cubic functions? Emily took her to the park and they shot baskets while doing their calculations."

Edward laughed softly, attracting Alan and Monica's attention. "She forgot how to calculate the vertex. I remember she called me during a board meeting, since I used to tutor her when she was in high school."

"No kidding," Jason replied.

"Why, yes," Edward nodded. "I was busy and told her so. When she came home that evening I inquired as to how her tutoring session went, and she answered that she'd called Elizabeth and she knew exactly what to do. She said Georgie had a wonderful time, and that all three of them went to Kelly's for cocoa afterwards."

He sighed, not noticing Jason's silence. "She and Elizabeth always loved their cocoa. Remember when Emily moved out for a while, back when she was with Zander. She lived at Kelly's for a while. Every time we'd come visit her, she and Elizabeth would be at the counter, hot chocolate in hand."

He looked towards the ceiling, smiling at his memories. "Elizabeth even taught her how to paint. Watercolors, of course. Emily painted the rose garden and Elizabeth painted the gazebo and they gave them to Lila. They're both still hanging in the drawing room upstairs."

He looked towards his grandson, suddenly aware of his silence. "I called her," he informed him, his eyes boring into Jason's as if attempting to gauge his reaction.

Jason nodded, looking down at the sparkling tiles.

Edward stared at him a moment longer before surprising them both by placing a hand on Jason's shoulder. "She'll be here," he assured before moving back to the seat AJ had abandoned.

Jason stared at him from across the room, waiting for Edward's pale blue eyes to meet his own.

_I know_, he mouthed silently.

The ambulance flew down the roads as motorists pulled to the side. AJ held on tight to the arm handle and was relieved when he spied the emergency entrance of GH before him.

Before he knew it, the ambulance was parked at the gate and the paramedics flew into action. They opened doors, barked vital stats to the attendants that rushed up, and helped unload the stretcher.

"Mr. Quartermaine," spoke his driver. "You're requested to take the service elevator up to your floor. We'd prefer if you weren't in the way right now."

AJ nodded and sprinted for the elevator. Once inside, he pulled out his cell phone.

Snickers. M&Ms. Butterfingers.

Courtney mulled over the choices, jingling the coins in her hand. Which one did she want?

Deciding on the Butterfingers, Courtney pulled the candy bar from the tray and twirled around in the gas station, bumping into a nearby customer.

The man shot her a dark glare and slowly withdrew to the Slurpee machine, his dark eyes watching her as she walked to the register.

Courtney slid the candy bar over to the cashier and paid for it in change, receiving a look from the young man.

She picked up her Butterfingers and walked slowly over to the tabloid rack, perusing Chelsea Clinton's secret honeymoon.

Her cell phone rang, causing her to jump and almost drop the spread of a half-naked former First Kid. Irritated, she snatched it from her pocket and answered it without even thinking.

"Hello?"

"Courtney. It's me."

"AJ," she bristled. "What the hell is your problem? I've been waiting for almost twenty five minutes!"

The high pitch of her voice caught the attention of the man by the Slurpee counter once more.

"Bite me."

"What!"

"I said, bite me, you ungrateful bitch."

"You can't talk to me like that! In case you've forgotten, I'm Sonny Corinthos' sis-"

"You could _be_ Sonny Corinthos for all I care, you twit," came the answer. "Don't forget for a minute that I'm the one saving _your_ worthless fat ass."

"Gee, how can I?" Courtney sneered, ripping a bite from her Butterfinger. "You'll never stop saying so. So typical of you."

"Just do us all a favor and shut up."

"Only if you remove the stick up your ass."

She could hear her ex-husband growl into the phone. "Do you even know who you hit, you insipid little bitch?"

She rolled her eyes. "Enlighten me, AJ."

"Elizabeth."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Webber?"

"No, sweetie, the Queen. You ran over the Queen. Prince Willie's never going marry you now."

"Bastard. I don't believe you."

"That's the deal, sweetie. You ran over Elizabeth." He clenched his eyes shut as images from the accident bombarded him again.

"#."

"Yeah, that's probably the right word for it."

"AJ, what am I going to do?"

"Woah, you're asking me? Right after you finished cursing me to hell and beyond?"

She groaned in frustration. "Damn it, can you actually be mature and move past that long enough to help me?"

He chuckled bitterly. She never ceased to amaze him.

"I mean, I didn't know it was Elizabeth. What the hell am I going to do when everyone finds out?"

AJ leaned against the elevator wall, mulling over her question. _What the hell am I going to do when everyone finds out_?

"AJ?"

"Yeah." He remained silent, lost in his own thoughts, as she babbled on almost hysterically. Would it be wrong to play this to his advantage? Would he be insulting Elizabeth in doing so?

"You there?"

"Yeah."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What the hell am I supposed to do!"

He thought a moment, stepping out of the elevator on to the main floor. He walked toward an isolated corner and lowered his voice. "Get to the hospital."

"What?"

"Get to the hospital. Dispel any doubts that you were involved. Catch a cab, hitch hike, offer sex in exchange for transportation, I really don't care, just get here."

"You-"

"Then, come visit Emily. Tell your brother you parked the car outside the hospital rather than in the covered lot because it was much quicker. Then, when you get out, pretend someone stole your car or something."

"But what about-"

"Don't worry about the car. Leave it in the gas station. I'll take care of it."

He clicked his phone off and walked hastily back to Emily's room, praying he had made the right choice.

Courtney hung up then dialed another number.

"Hi, I'm calling to request a cab."


	4. 04

**Chapter Four**

Thanks. I'll be waiting outside. Yeah. Thanks again."

Courtney flipped her cell phone shut and dumped it back in her purse. Throwing the Butterfinger wrapper in the garbage can by the door, she exited the gas station.

The cashier shook his head as he mopped up the coffee counter. _What a strange lady_.

The man by the Slurpee counter finally showed some signs of animation as the blonde left. He walked briskly to the counter, threw down a pack of spearmint gum and paid for it quickly. He snatched up his purchase before the cashier could put it in a bag, and quickly strode out of the gas station.

The man passed by Courtney, nodding briskly at her. His black Cherokee was parked nearby and he opened it up and got in, making a big show of reading a road map of Alaska over his steering wheel.

After staring at the map for a few minutes he fished his slim silver cellular phone out of his pocket and hit the first speed dial button.

"Boss. Yeah, it's me. There's been a particularly strange development that I think you'll be very interested in."

* * *

AJ sprinted up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. He pushed his way through the double door and walked quickly to Emily's room, earning a glare from a nearby orderly.

Stopping directly in front of 124, AJ drew in a deep breath. This was it.

But what the hell was he supposed to say?

* * *

Jason abandoned his post by the wall and took up a chair next to Skye. His half-sister sneaked a sideways glance at him, and much to his surprise, she remained seated.

Jason's hand gripped the chair railing, squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

He couldn't take this much longer.

He couldn't sit in an uncomfortable hospital chair. He couldn't lean against the wall while a dreadful crick formed in his neck. He couldn't sit and watch his baby sister lying in a hospital bed. He couldn't see all her friends and family moping around her.

But mostly, he couldn't take how his life had come to a complete standstill ever since Monica had called him. He couldn't take the feeling that welled in his gut until it became impossible for him to breathe.

Emily was one of the few family members he loved with all his heart. His mother was included, but just not in abundance. Lila was definitely a part of his heart; the elderly woman had never done anything except love him unconditionally. Ned was tolerable in his own way. Reginald, even if not biologically related, certainly felt like a family member. Skye was a pain in the ass, but she had her redeeming qualities. All two of them.

No, he thought, gazing at a comatose Emily. There wasn't anyone else like her. _And there never will be_.

The thought brought tears to his eyes. He wasn't ready to deal with this.

The realization struck him hard.

He had killed many a man, watching them beg for their lives and wet themselves while he held a gun leveled to their temples. He had suffered multiple simultaneous injuries, burning and delirious with fever in a strange country, willing to bet the farm that he'd never see the light of day again. He had knocked on Death's door many times himself, running away like a mischievous schoolchild before the Grim Reaper answered.

Death and suffering was a familiarity to him. It was a way of life. It was _his_ life.

But he couldn't deal with it anymore. Not when it was after the life of his baby sister. She shouldn't have to lie in a hospital bed, needles pricking her delicate skin while a heart monitor beat plaintively in the background.

If he could, he'd switch positions with her in an instant. _He_ should be the one lying in a hospital bed, anyway. He had done enough to deserve it.

But what had this young woman done?

_"It should have been you."_

From nowhere, her words hit him again. He winced, a gesture not unnoticed by Skye. Elizabeth's words still cut him to the quick, even though he had realized in the past where they were coming from.

Why was he remembering now?

Why here, of all places?

He drew in a long, shaky breath, his eyes already flooding with tears.

It didn't matter anymore.

Emily was in the hospital because of his mistakes. Because he had made so many wrong decisions and never repented for a single one. Because of his lifestyle. His misdeeds. The lives he took. The people he stole from.

And every person whom he'd ever walked away on. Every person he ever let down.

And now it was time to pay the piper. With Emily's health.

A tear escaped from his closed eyes, as much as Jason tried not to let it. He knew that with it would come others, faster, in rapid frequency. And he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop it.

His prognosis was right, and soon he was weeping silently. His shoulders trembled as he tried furiously to swallow his sobs and muffle his sniffles. Hands gripping the rail tighter, knuckles becoming alabaster under the pressure, Jason futilely waged a war against his emotions.

And lost.

Skye could see it. She had been watching him ever since he sat down next to her, a move which had completely alarmed her. She could feel that he was doing his best to quiet down. He didn't want the others to see him break. Didn't want them to see his momentary lapse, where he wasn't the Borg anymore, replaced instead by a brother, a son, a cousin, and a grandson that was grieving just as much as anyone, if not more so.

And yet here he was, his emotions washing over him like a tidal wave on the shore. In public view of his family, still clustered in front of them by Emily's bedside, as well as anyone who chose to walk through the door: a doctor, an orderly, a nurse, the mob squad.

What she did next surprised the both of them.

Skye's pale hand slowly crept out of her lap, hesitantly traveling towards his chair. Jason didn't notice, still tryiing to conceal his tears.

He looked up with a gasp when he felt her cool fingers on his. They twined with his hand, prying it gently off the chair and relieving his knuckles from their burden.

His wet blue eyes looked up to meet Skye's warm green ones. A tear trickled down her cheek as well, and she pursed her lips together as she squeezed his hand in hers.

Looking into her half-brother's eyes, Skye knew they mirrored hers. No matter how many times she and Jason had faced off or traded caustic remarks and biting insults, they were on the same side now. They were family, and even if it wasn't good enough for him, it was good enough for her. No one should have to suffer through this alone.

Jason's face relaxed from its stern position, and Skye nodded slowly, understanding what he must be feeling at the moment. She let out a slow breath, sniffling quietly. Her eyes watched Jason as he relaxed further, dropping his head back to lean against the wall behind his chair and closing his eyes.

"I can't do this."

It was a whisper, but she heard. Monica did too, and the blonde turned around to see her stepchildren seated quietly together.

Skye was trying to form a word, but the thick ball of tears refused the request of her synapses.

Instead, she nodded again, squeezing his hand harder in an attempt to reassure him and calm herself as well.

"I can't lose her."

His voice wavered with tears, and she could hear the fatigue it held. Skye swallowed slowly, preparing for speech.

"You won't."

"I can."

"But you won't."

He continued as if she hadn't spoken at all, causing the redhead to furrow her brow in slight annoyance.

"She's my baby sister. I can't…I can't do this. I can't sit here and feel so…so…"

"Helpless," she finished.

His eyes opened and he turned his head, looking wearily at her from under dark wet lashes.

"You feel helpless, like you should be doing something, but you can't. And you don't like it because you've never felt so useless before."

He nodded slowly.

"I feel…I feel…" Skye's voice trailed off as the redhead turned her gaze in the direction of the family. "I feel like an outsider."

Jason's brow furrowed. "How so?"

Skye swept her auburn locks behind her ear, her eyes falling to the tiles. "I feel like…like I don't belong here. But I'm here. And it's not that this is one of those 'oh, pay attention to me' moments. It's not."

Her eyes met Jason's, expecting to find skepticism. There was none.

"I feel like don't belong here, like my feelings don't belong here."

"You think you're not allowed to feel bad here?"

"I just – I don't know anymore. I mean, she's not my real sister. I get that she's not yours either, but you and AJ grew up with her. Granted, she was a teen, but still. You all played cards together, had Christmas dinner together, celebrated birthdays. AJ taught her how to drive and you -–you were her idol. And then I came along – the prodigal daughter, back from the baby market. I was so insanely jealous of her, and I – I did horrible things, Jason, things I'd take back this second if I could."

She paused, trying to gather her wits about her.

"I betrayed her in the worst possible way. I was the one that caused her so much grief. _I'm_ responsible for her bus accident, Jason, _me_."

He remained silent as she knew he would.

"I caused her to be shipped half way across the country for rehab. I had a hand in her breaking off her relationship with Zander. God, I was a part of every bad thing that ever happened to her. And she didn't deserve any of it."

"She forgave you."

"I know." Her head drooped, red hair cascading over her shoulders and covering her face. "But I never forgave myself. And now that this-" she waved a hand in front of her, indicating the cluster around the bed. "Now that this happened, I feel…I feel like I'm losing my own sister too. Sister in the same sense that you and AJ see her as a sister."

Her green eyes turned and finally met his.

"But I'm not allowed to feel that way, Jason. I'm not allowed to…." Her voice broke down as she subsided into tears. "I caused her so much pain, and now…"

Unable to speak, Skye covered her eyes with her hand and continued to weep. Jason let her cry it out, finally squeezing her hand to gain her attention.

"Look at me."

Her wide eyes met his, and Jason felt a pang of sympathy for all the guilt displayed there.

"She forgave you. Everyone did. And she loves you, Skye." When she shook her head he twisted closer. "Yes. She loved you just as much as I can tell you love her. What's done is done, and don't you dare tear yourself down, _here_ of all places. Not now. That time is long gone. All we need to concentrate on is that she's going to get better and live her life to the fullest. And we're not ever going to make any more stupid mistakes."

Skye smiled softly. "Who are you trying to convince, Jason?" she asked. "Me or you?"

"Both." His voice was hard and determined. The tears in his voice were gone, and the ones on his face were drying. "Both of us. We're not ever going to do anything stupid again."

Skye nodded. "Lives change in an instant," she managed to get out. "I was reading the newspaper and listening to Ned whine about the family company when Monica called us. Then, nothing mattered. ELQ didn't matter to Ned, and all the # in my life didn't matter to me. All that mattered was getting to the hospital as fast as we could."

Jason nodded. "Same here. I was out on…business, and then Monica called me. I didn't think about anything else. I didn't call Sonny to tell him I was leaving, or even Courtney. I just broke every single traffic law trying to get here."

Skye nodded, looking at Emily's inert form. "Lives change at the drop of a hat. You can never even imagine what one action, one tiny mistake, can do to the lives of so many."

"So we're not going to sit here and think about all the things that can go wrong," Jason affirmed. "We're going to focus on how we'll make everything right."

"On how we'll live our lives the best we can," Skye added softly.

Jason nodded, glancing down at their clasped hands. _Lives change, all right_.

"Jason?"

"What?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening." Skye turned her head in time to see a strange look pass in Jason's eyes, almost as if he was drifting off for a moment.

He furrowed his brow at her words. It was the second time that _de ja vou_ had haunted him that day. Skye had said exactly what Elizabeth had said to him, so many times, so many years ago.

"You did the same."

Skye smiled softly. She was about to reply when the door of the room flew open and a flustered and disheveled AJ stood, blocking out the fluorescent light from the hallway.

"AJ?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth than Alan and Monica's beepers started going off.

"What the hell-" Alan asked in confusion, ripping the tiny device from his belt.

"They know not to call us unless there's an emergency," Monica fumed.

"Mom, Dad." AJ's voice cut through his parent's complaints, bringing all eyes in the room to rest on him.

Jason looked up at his brother from his seat. What the hell was he doing?

"You'd better go now." AJ's words carried a sense of panic and foreboding.

"AJ, what-"

"Elizabeth was in an accident trying to get here. They apparently just got her into the ER."


	5. 05

**Chapter Five**

_"Boss."_

"What?"

_"It's me."_

"Really."

_"Yeah. Listen, there's been a particularly strange development that I think you'll find very interesting."_

"I'm listening."

_"Gas station on Roosevelt. A blonde girl pulls up in a badly busted car. Takes it into the alley. I was getting gas, and I saw her pull in."_

"Fascinating."

_"She goes inside the gas station. I needed coffee anyway, so I went in after her. She gets another phone call. This time she raises her voice. I caught snippets of the conversation – it sounded like she was in a big mess. Anyway, she calls a cab and waits outside and that's when I left."_

"And how exactly does this interest me?"

_"She was Sonny Corinthos' baby sister."_

The man on the end of the line smiled. He knew this was exactly the kind of opening his boss would need.

"Really."

_"No joke. It looks like a good one."_

The man smiled into the phone, pleased at what his informant had just told him.

After months of searching for a way to weaken Sonny Corinthos and his stronghold, he finally had gotten a hold of something that had marvelous potential.

"Follow her. Search the car. Trace phone records. Do anything to find out what happened and how it can be used to our advantage."

_"Sure thing, Mr. Alcazar. Consider it done."

* * *

_

Dr. Mulrow raced towards the Ambulance gate. A swarm of paramedics had assembled around a stretcher and were hurriedly rolling it in.

"What happened?" he barked, motioning for a group of doctors behind him to hurry.

"Car accident victim. Hit and run," came the answer.

John Mulrow bent closer trying to examine the victim more carefully. He sucked in shallow breath when he caught sight of the blood flowing from her face and appendages.

"Which position?"

"Slumped over the wheel."

"The cuts on her head – did you use the neck brace right away?"

"Yes, sir." The young orderly recorded down the details while he ran, following the stretcher and the group of doctors down the hallway into the Emergency Room. "Neck brace was fitted right away, but her cuts seem to be superficial. Most likely from crashing glass. Windshield fragments had fallen onto her."

"Did you do the spinal test?" Dr. Mulrow's sneakers squeaked as he ran, his caramel eyes anxiously trained on his newest patient.

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"Victim was unconscious upon our arrival."

"All right. Have you at least been able to gauge the extent of her spinal injuries, if any?"

"We don't have a very good idea yet, sir. But the damage seems to be minimal. Her cervical and spinal region seem sound."

"What of head injury? Does it seem critical?"

"Seems to be that the victim hit her head on the steering wheel when she slipped into unconsciousness. No evidence of whiplash or other serious cephalic injury."

"Chances are, she's suffering internal bleeding."

"Yes, sir. That's what we thought also."

"I'm going to prep quickly for surgery. You," he ordered, pointing quickly at a young blonde nurse. "Call the anesthesiologist. We'll need him. You," referring to another nurse, "call the Drs. Quartermaine. I'll need them during surgery. I want cc's of morphine injected accordingly, and I want her condition gauged as accurately as possible. Keep the neck brace on; there's still a chance for spinal defects and I'm not risking anything. Have the orderlies clean as much blood up as they can in the few minutes while I'm prepping."

The group barreled through the double doors, coming to a stop in the ER. Nurses and orderlies immediately descended, and the young doctor backed away quickly. "Send for her blood type. Most likely, she'll need a transfusion."

With that, he ran into the prep room. Discarding his coat quickly, Dr. Mulrow dropped his watch with it and ran for the sink. Immediately he was lathering his hands up to his elbow, scrubbing until his brachium was covered in the delicate suds. He rinsed quickly, holding his hands upright and allowing two prep nurses to slip on the surgical gloves.

Nodding gratefully as they tied him up in his blue surgical coat, he impatiently waited while they snapped buttons and tied the sashes. He obediently stepped into the surgical pants, instructing that the elastic at the cuffs be pulled under the heel of his sneakers.

John sighed deeply as the nurses fitted his surgical cap and mask. He closed his eyes, wanting to drown out all the chaos of the ER. But he couldn't.

He knew them so well they sometimes haunted him in his sleep.

His sun-kissed brown locks disappeared under the offensive cap, and he felt his mask slipped in place. He heard a nurse fumbling with goggles, swearing when she dropped them. He watched as she deposited the pair in the washing bin and unwrapped a sanitized pair for him.

John knew the ER like the back of his hand. Ever since Med school, he had dreamed of this job. The trauma, the excitement, exhilaration. The importance of it all. The rush of adrenaline, the harsh orders, knowing that every life in the room depended on your training.

He thought he'd love it all. But seven years of experience had taught him otherwise.

He hated it now. Hated how the ambulances always pulled, sirens screeching, up to the gate, offensive lights blaring. Hated the alarmed look on the faces of the EMT. Hated the stretchers and the cervical collars. Hated the impersonal charts and clipboards the orderlies carried.

He hated the pain. The suffering. The blood. All of it in abundance in the ER.

He was good at what he did, he had to admit that. But it all took a severe toll on his own health. Many times he had considered leaving medicine all together, going back to school to study law, and then go into Consumer law, battling it out with medical insurance companies.

But while the plan seemed appealing, John never left. And he knew he never would. Because as traumatic and nerve-racking as it was, he had to admit that it had its moments, all of them extremely heartwarming.

Truth be told, John knew he lived to hear reports that his patients were in stable condition in the ICU. He loved it when they came up to him and thanked him for his work. He loved how his heart swelled with pride and good will.

He loved making people better, and he doubted that part of him would ever change.

And it was that part of him that was responsible for him being in the prep room at the moment, being carefully fitted with sterile clothing in a painstakingly sanitized environment.

He let out a sigh of relief when the nurses finished, yelling out a thank you over his shoulder.

John raced back to his young patient, finding her partially cleaned and ready for surgery.

He adjusted his goggles and pulled his gloves tighter. "Anesthetized?"

"Yes, sir," a nurse answered.

"Good. Take no chances."

"We just paged the Drs. Quartermaine, but I'm not aware if they answered yet or not."

"They'll be coming." John took a deep breath while staring down at the partially exposed young woman before him. Time was a-wasting. Even from the reported minor head injury, there was always the possibility her brain was being cut off from its oxygen supply. If they waited too long, they could risk brain damage. "We have to start."

* * *

"AJ, what-"

"Elizabeth was in an accident trying to get her. Apparently they just got her in the ER."

Lucky jumped up from his corner, knocking over the half-full glass of water. "Wait, wait, wait – what?" His blue eyes were wide and turbulent, unable to believe what AJ just said.

"Elizabeth was hurt. Badly."

In an instant, Jason was on his feet, freeing Skye's hand from his. His hands clenched into fists and he narrowed his blue eyes.

"You're lying."

AJ rolled his eyes, his voice becoming high with desperation and worry. "Why the hell would I lie about this, Jason, huh?" he demanded. "Why the hell would I come into my sister's hospital room and announce that her best friend's on the cutting table? Why?"

Jason's hands were immediately fisted in his brother's button-down shirt, and AJ's back was suddenly slammed against the wooden door. Monica squealed with fright and Alan jumped to his feet, followed by Reginald, Edward, Ned, and the rest of the Scooby gange.

AJ's dark eyes bore into his younger brother's. He seemed surprisingly unfazed by his brother's attack. "Why would I lie?" His voice came out in a low growl, his eyes narrowing. "I found her, Jason."

Jason's eyes widened at the information, and he felt as if his blood was slowly seeping out of his body.

"N-no."

"_I_ found her. Slammed against a light post, head bent over the wheel, covered in glass." AJ raised his voice until he was practically yelling, his word's echoing in Jason's ears as blood pounded in the mobster's eardrums. "I called for help. I watched them pry her door open. I watched them fit her with a neck brace. I watched them all – seven of them – pull her out of the car and onto the stretcher. I drove here with her. I ran up the stairs and stood outside this room for two minutes, trying to work up the energy and the resolution to come in here and tell you! And you think I'm _lying_!"

Reginald and Ned were at Jason's sides, firmly prying his hands out of AJ's shirt. Jason wrenched himself free from their grasp, continuing to stare at AJ.

Monica and Alan's pagers went off again with the same alarming urgency. The two parents exchanged glances, both fearful of their eldest son's revelations.

"We have to go," Alan stated, his voice low and firm.

Monica blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes of tears. When she spoke, her voice was soft and tremulous. "Alan? Alan, how do we – how do we o-operate on her?" Her eyes turned towards her husband, wide and full of confusion and remorse.

Alan reached for her hand, taking the first step towards the door. "I don't know, honey. But we have to."

Without a word, the two doctors strode firmly out the door, leaving the rest of its inhabitants to deal with the news.

Nikolas was the first to question AJ. "When?"

"I found her twenty minutes ago. I called the police, and then the ambulance came and we got here."

Lucky appeared next to his brother, his eyes wide and pained as he registered the information. "How did it happen?"

AJ's shoulders slumped as he remembered. "Hit and run," he managed to get out.

Zander joined the brothers, uttering one furious word. "Who?"

Tears crept into AJ's eyes once more. "I don't know. The person got away."

From behind Jason, Skye closed her eyes.

Jason's head whirled and the ground swirled at his feet. "N-no," he stuttered, his breath coming in short gasps. "It's not possible."

Ned and Zander were instantly at his side, each one placing a hand on his arm in case he should fall.

Sucking in a deep breath, Jason stared at the floor, willing it to stop moving. AJ looked away from his brother's disoriented grief, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. It was all his fault. He never should have let his need for revenge take him over. Not when the young woman who seemed like an almost-sister to him was lying unconscious in a smashed automobile.

He cursed himself inwardly, calling in every foul name he could think of. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he felt Skye's long fingers on his shoulders. Before he could fully straighten, his sister had wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly.

AJ shuddered in her arms, partly from the horror of the ordeal and partly from his omnipresent guilt.

Skye looked over AJ's shoulder at Jason. The mobster was half bent over, hands braced on his thighs even as Zander and Ned struggled to hold him upright. His face remained free of tears, and Skye thought he was going to be sick.

Zander grunted under the weight, concentrating on holding Jason up. Concentrating on the man that had always hated him just so he wouldn't have to concentrate on the woman that had always accepted him.

Regardless, his thoughts flew to when he first met Elizabeth. It was at an illegal rave, and even though he had come off slightly overbearing, she had been polite to him, although he could see her uneasiness. Later, when Emily introduced him to the Scooby gang at Kelly's over brownies, Elizabeth was the only one extending a warm welcoming smile while the guys got their digs in. She had been a very loving, very kind presence in his life, and Zander was always grateful for that.

And now the two most important women in his life were in the hospital.

On the other side, Ned was having similar thoughts. Tears crowded his eyes, blurring his vision, as he pictured the lovable, energetic brunette that used to put in late hours with Chloe for Chloe Morgan designs. The girl that would be on the phone with their distributors in Venice for hours at a time, trying to straighten out any glitches in production. The young woman that had tied up loose ends at the fashion company after Chloe's death.

He thought of the young woman that used to come over almost every day during the summer, spending the entire day by the pool with Emily. The one that played poker with Reginald and painted landscapes for Lila. He smiled when he remembered the one Thanksgiving dinner they all shared together. Cook had been in a good mood for the entire week afterwards, simply because the young girl had complimented her cooking so profusely.

Lucky and Nikolas stood in mute silence, unable to move or even think, while Reginald sank into a hospital chair. Edward knelt on the floor beside his wife, tears flowing freely down both of their faces. Their hands were clasped, and Skye could tell her grandmother was whispering a prayer for both of her ailing granddaughters.

AJ gently pushed her arms away, stepping away from his sister. He stumbled back into the wooden door, his eyes trained on his younger brother.

"J-Jason?"

The blonde remained unmoving, barely held upright by a straining Ned and Zander.

"Jason? C'mon, man."

His quiet pleas brought forth no response, and Ned exchanged worried glances with the young man on Jason's other arm. He nodded his head towards Emily's bed, silently suggesting that they help him over there.

Zander nodded and struggled to lift Jason's arm over his neck, preparing to drag him across the room. Ned's hand tightened at Jason's waist, and he almost swore under his breath. This was the worst possible hand that Fate could have dealt his cousin. First Emily…then Elizabeth.

Ned was never really clear on the bond between Jason and his young artist friend. He knew that Jason helped her through Lucky's passing, much to his surprise. He didn't know how it was therapeutic to talk to a living block of concrete, but it always worked for Elizabeth. He thought he had seen the beginning flames of a romance between the two, but then Jason left immediately for business and remained absent for several years, the most crucial in Elizabeth's young life.

He had come back when his sweet little friend had matured into a full-grown woman. A sad smile flickered on Ned's face as he shook Jason slightly, urging him out of his almost catatonic state. He remembered wondering if Jason Morgan could handle his little friend at that point.

He had heard rumors; giggling conversations between Zander and Emily, grunts of disbelief from the Spencer/Cassidine brothers, disapproving murmurs from his grandfather and uncle. But he never knew if they were legitimate. When Elizabeth moved in with his cousin, he assumed they were. But she moved out soon enough and AJ's ex-wife moved in. And Ned had to admit he wasn't the least bit surprised; he'd had a wager going with Reginald that the ex-Q had long had her designs for Jason Morgan.

But the man he was struggling to support proved his theories wrong. If Jason didn't care deeply for her, he'd be taking this the best out of all of them. But he wasn't. He was taking it the worst.

"Come on, Jase," Zander muttered. "You need to sit down."

The two men began to sit him down on the bed, but all of a sudden Jason showed signs of animation. He sat only long enough to suck in a deep breath before leaping to his feet and striding over to his brother.

AJ winced when Jason stalked forward, almost unable to bear the swirl of emotions on the younger man's face. Even though he had long since lost any communication with his brother, he could still see what Jason was feeling. The man's normally steely and stoic eyes were an open book to anyone who cared to read.

Jason narrowed his eyes at AJ, causing him to cringe again. Within the icy depths AJ could still see lingering disbelief. But the shock and horror seemed to mask everything else, and he knew Jason was still struggling with the numbness from the news.

Without a word, AJ watched Jason stride out of the room, his leather jacket flapping with his long gait. His chocolate eyes met his sister's emerald ones.

"Where's he going?"

Skye shook her head slowly. "You should know. Where _would_ he go?"

* * *

Jason raced through the halls, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as if it were about to leap out at any moment. The bustling noises of the hospital were muted to his ears, and the only sound he heard was his rushing blood. Ignoring the heat on his face and the sting in his eyes, Jason rounded the corner and sprinted down the hall, slowing only to push through the large double doors.

"Sir, where are you going?" A voice called out to him, but Jason barely heard. And if he did hear, he wasn't about to stop.

He kept going, not aware of the strange looks he was receiving.

It couldn't be. It just wasn't possible. Elizabeth was the most careful driver he knew. It wasn't fair if what his brother said was actually true.

The thought struck him once more, bringing him to a crashing halt.

_It wasn't fair._

Or was it?

What if Elizabeth's accident was another punishment? Could it be? Could he be punished again by not only his sister's illness, but now Elizabeth…

He shook his head briskly, jarring all such thoughts loose. No. He and Skye had decided…what had they decided? That they weren't to blame for what had happened?

He snorted, his formerly warm heart-to-heart with his half-sister fading away into borderline stupidity. Just because they had decided that they wouldn't make any more mistakes, carpe diem style and all that, didn't mean that they weren't…that he wasn't…

Responsible.

Was he? Could this be fate's cruel way of striking him down?

Jason clenched his fists as he ran, almost piercing the skin of his palm with his neatly trimmed nails. He was almost at the end of the hallway; the two ominous double doors at the end held his answers.

"Sir, this is a restricted area-" A surprised orderly's warnings were cut short as Jason strode by him, his shoulder slightly jostling the young man as he passed.

He neared the T at the end of the hallway and was about to step up when a nurse and an elderly doctor rushed past him, anxiously pushing through the doors and running over to a nearby work table.

Jason finally stopped and put his hand up to the still slightly swinging door the two had entered. He closed his eyes, sucking in a long breath and trying to find the courage to look through.

If AJ was wrong, he'd personally slit his throat.

Hands trembling, Jason raised them to the slick wood. He shuddered slightly as a gust of cold air blew down on him from the ceiling vent. Hearing the rise in voices behind him, Jason knew he'd better end this before he was seized by hospital security.

He slowly pried open his eyes, blinking at the unwelcome fluorescent light. Like a child, he stood with his nose pressed against the glass, no doubt smudging it.

Dr. Mulrow looked up from the operating table to glance at his colleagues before continuing. But a pair of intense blue eyes, straining around the room, caught his attention.

He paused, sterile swab in hand, as the pale orbs met his own. He stared for a moment, jarred out of his trance only by movement at his side.

"John? What are you waiting for?" Alan's voice almost caught him off guard, but the young doctor recovered nicely.

"Nothing." He bent down to his work, nodding in the direction of the doors. "But isn't that your son?"

Alan's warm brown eyes looked up to meet the dazed blue ones of his son. What he saw almost made his heart stop.

Jason was standing in his direct view, hands on the door, nose against the glass. His shoulders sagged in defeat, in his eyes a mixture of horror and pain.

Alan pursed his lips and nodded gently, looking away before tears assaulted his son.

"This isn't what you need to see, Jason," he murmured before bending down to the task at hand.

Outside, Jason slumped against the door, allowing his entire body weight to fall against it. It was real. It was all happening.

And for once, he wasn't in a position to do anything about it.

"Sir, we'll have to ask you to leave this area," came a stern voice from behind him. Even as he sagged against the glass, Jason could feel strong arms pulling him back roughly.

His eyes were glued to the narrow glass panels, and he barely heard the quibbling voices around him.

"Wait, wait," exclaimed a flushed Edward, walking briskly over from the other hallway. "Wait, let him go."

The security guards immediately released Jason, who found himself suddenly praying his legs would support his weight.

Edward turned slowly to his shaken grandson. He dismissed the guards with a flick of his wrist, keeping his eyes on Jason.

Jason shuddered softly, his head bent as tears crowded his eyes. He felt Edward's hand smooth up the leather on his back until his grandfather had him enveloped in a tight hug.

Even though the old man had to stand slightly on his toes to reach Jason's towering height, his arms gave Jason a surprising shelter and strength that the hardened mobster had never dreamed possible.

"Ed-"

"Shh," his grandfather whispered in his ear. "Let it go, Jason. Just let it all go."

Body almost numb with grief and shock, Jason found himself tightening his arms around his grandfather, allowing his head to rest on the elderly man's shoulder as a flood of tears claimed him once again.

Edward patted his back comfortingly as Jason sobbed and shuddered, lightly rocking him back and forth within the bear hug.

"You don't have to be so strong all the time, my boy."


	6. 06

** Chapter Six**

Couch. Lamp. Coffee table. Twirl. Coffee table. Lamp. Couch. Twirl.

Sonny Corinthos paced back and forth in the lounge before an anxious Carly. Seven steps forward, twirl. Seven steps forward. Twirl.

His Italian shoes made a scuffing sound on the cheap carpet and his black trench coat flapped with his stride. Hands shoved deep within the depths of his pockets, Sonny had nothing on his mind save one petite brunette.

On the couch, Carly clutched her growing stomach. "Sonny, please," she said softly. "Stop pacing. You're making me sick."

His wife's voice jarred the mobster out of his thoughts, and he quietly obliged by moving to sit down next to her. Carly raked a gaze over his profile. Tight. Set. Hard.

She sighed deeply, trying to think of something to say to her husband. Even though he and Elizabeth had drifted apart after her marriage to Ric, she knew the two had patched up their differences after the truth about the panic room came out. And Ric's inevitable disappearance.

Even as she struggled with her comforting words, Sonny was the first to move. He reached an arm around his wife, pulling her against his chest. She sighed softly and snuggled against him.

He pressed his chin into her soft blonde locks, wanting to say something but not knowing what, or why.

"What a shitty day."

His wife's blunt analysis made him chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"What a shitty day." She peeked up to look at him, smirking. "Just kidding."

"Good. I thought Michael's teacher was the only one to use such lame jokes," Sonny replied, laughing softly as she smacked him lightly against the chest. He pulled her closer and pressed his cheek against her hair.

"I can't even imagine what everyone must going through."

"I know," Carly nodded, her voice softening. "It's just so…wrong. I mean, it can't happen like this. First Emily, and now Elizabeth."

She could feel him staring down at her. "OK, OK," she confessed. "I may not like her very much-"

"At all."

She ignored him. "But I still feel horrible that she got hurt. And I know that she and Jason were…friends once, so…"

"Yeah."

She sighed against him, rubbing her index finger against the pale green button on his shirt. "I guess all we can do…"

"…is be there for him however he needs us to be."

* * *

Nikolas' chocolate brown eyes were trained intently on a single object for the last ten minutes. His younger brother, slumped in his little corner once more, hadn't moved since then. Sighing, Nikolas rubbed the crick in his neck before hesitatingly walking toward the young Spencer.

Next to him, Luke apparently had the same idea, and stepfather and stepson both moved into the corner next to Lucky, sitting down Indian-style on the floor.

The young blonde looked up, tears swimming in his deep blue eyes. His father quirked an eyebrow at him, offering a soft smile before sliding closer to sit shoulder to shoulder with his boy. Nikolas sat back against the wall, his eyes closed.

"Do you think it was a mob hit? On Elizabeth, I mean?"

Nikolas' eyes flew open at Lucky's voice, meeting Luke's. Both men stared at each other, mulling over the question.

"I doubt it," Nikolas replied slowly, scrunching his brow as he contemplated any possible mob motives.

"Not likely, Cowboy," Luke agreed, nodding at the boy.

Lucky wasn't so convinced. "Don't you think it's a pretty big coincidence, though? Elizabeth gets hit by a phantom driver the same day that Emily nosedives?"

"It's called fate, boy," Luke replied simply. "Ain't nothing more to it. It's Fate, and Fate's a bitch."

"Agreed," sighed Nikolas.

Lucky leaned forward, his voice growing more excited as the other two men dismissed the idea. "No, I'm serious. It's a huge coincidence. What if someone's trying to get at Sonny through Jason? Wouldn't it be totally convenient? His baby sister lands in the hospital, why not go after Elizabeth? I mean, what if they had planned a hit on her but were waiting for the right moment? This time it came to them."

Luke sighed. "Cowboy, you've been watching too many Sopranos episodes. No one is after Elizabeth."

"What do you mean?" he asked, exasperated. "Mobsters and all sorts of damn shady characters were _always_ after Elizabeth. Do I need to remind you of the crypt, the bomb, the-"

"Lucky," Nikolas broke in. "Dude, that was because of _Jason. _Those guys would never have been after her had she not been connected to Jason."

"But-"

"No, seriously. Just think about it. What's happened to her since she broke up with him?"

Lucky rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, gee, let me think. She was pushed down a flight of stairs and miscarried. She was bitten by a snake. She was poisoned. Repeatedly. She was fed birth control pills through her OJ. Do I need to continue?"

Luke sighed in frustration. "That was because of that Slick Prick Ric, kid. Not because of Sonny and certainly not because of Jason. She was hurt all those times either by Ric, or by that black widow that was obsessed with him."

Nikolas snorted. "Those two deserved each other. I hope they're happy in Hell."

"They probably own the place by now," Luke quipped, snickering. Those were two homicides that Sonny Corinthos actually got right.

Lucky didn't share in his father's amusement. Instead, a spark of anger flared up in the young man's eyes. "Well, then, what?" he sneered. "What was it? Do you expect me to believe that there is no conceivable _reason_ why my two best friends are in the fucking hospital? That there's no justification at all for what's happened to them!"

Luke sighed, looking down at his hands, clasped in his lap. "Yeah, Cowboy." He looked up at his son, his eyes misty. "That's exactly what we expect you to believe. Because that's how it is, and try as we might, wish as we might, there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

Nikolas watched as Lucky buried his face in his hands, letting out a muffled choking sound. "I just – I can't- I can't wrap my head around it," he got out. "I need t-to believe that this is happening for-for a reason, that they aren't j-just here for no God forsaken reason…"

Nikolas sighed, leaning his head against the wall. He didn't know how to respond to that. And judging from the defeated sag in Luke's shoulders and the glum look on his face, the older Spencer didn't either.

* * *

Monica slipped quietly out of the operating room, her white sneakers squeaking on the tiles. Breathing in the cool hallway air, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.

She heard the door swing open behind her, and soon felt her husband's strong hand on her shoulder. Turning to face him, she saw the same anxiety and strain etched into his face.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered warmly, struggling to swallow a yawn.

"Hey," she smiled. He took her hand and guided her to the quieter end of the hallway, free from orderlies and prep room nurses.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry at his wife's condition. Her normally bright blue eyes were flat and tired, with heavy bags underneath. Her skin was paler than usual, and her inner troubles made her look at least five years older.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm fine." She yawned before him, covering her mouth with her hand. "I'm just so tired. I can't do this anymore."

"The surgery or…"

"Both. I can't stand here and face this, I can't go back in and face Elizabeth. I can't go to my daughter's room. I can't…do any of this."

Alan pulled her into a hug, her head resting on his chest. He massaged her shoulders gently when he felt them tremble, felt her shudder with exhaustion and anguish.

"No one's asking you to, dear."

She looked up at him, her eyes misty. "What are you doing out here?"

"Same thing. I couldn't handle it anymore in there. I told John I had to get out, and he asked if I could get Dr. Gandhi while I was at it."

"He's decided we do need the neurosurgeon after all?"

"Apparently so."

Monica sighed, her face dropping. "I was praying it wouldn't come to that."

"We all were, sweetheart," Alan murmured, taking his wife's hands in his own. "We did the best we could, John especially. And as much as he hated the possibility, I think he knew at the beginning that there was a possibility of brain damage."

She turned away from him, ripping her hands from his and facing the wall, arms wrapped tight around her waist. "Don't say that."

"Honey –"

"No!" She whirled on him, her tired blue eyes now blazing with a touch of anger. "Don't you dare. She's not brain damaged. She's _not_, Alan, no matter what they think. What does John know, after all? He just completed his residency three years ago. Medical school, what, five years ago? What does he know? He's just a baby himself."

When Alan reached out to her, she shrugged him away, jabbing a finger at his chest. "I don't want to hear it. I refuse to hear it, Alan, so if you know what's good for you, you won't even say it."

"Honey," he tried again. "She hit her head. Hard. Several deep gashes, and we've been extremely lucky there hasn't been any swelling in the cranial region. Sweetheart, it would be a miracle, a literal medical miracle, for our Elizabeth to come out of this without some sort of-"

"No!" Monica cried, her upper body trembling. She reached a hand out to press against the wall, steadying herself even as she crumbled to her knees. "I can't- I w-won't believe that she's – that my darling girl's b-brain d-dam… Damn it, I won't, Alan! I won't!"

He crouched beside her, pulling her against him as she sobbed, fisting her hands in his oxford shirt. Smoothing a hand down her golden locks, he murmured and whispered nonsensical words of comfort to her until her sobs abated to hushed whimpers.

* * *

Jason walked numbly down the hall, swinging his arms listlessly at his sides with each step. His eyes were red and burning, his throat itchy, and his nose felt as if half a dozen crayons had been shoved mercilessly into it.

He coughed and took in a hitched breath, rounding the corner slowly as his legs complained of his weight. Breathing a sigh of relief as he spied the crimson doors, Jason focused on completing his walk.

Finally reaching the doors, he pressed his palms flat against them, gathering his strength for a moment before pushing them open and entering the chapel.

His eyes took a minute to adjust to the dim light. The small chapel was illuminated only by a dozen small candles placed at the feet of the Virgin, a few more placed by the cross on the opposite wall.

As he entered, he heard muted gasps from the room. He raked a gaze through the pews and stopped when he spotted the bodyguards.

Johnny, Max, and Francis were clustered in a corner of the first pew, and were gazing back at him with a surprised look on their faces.

"Jason-" Johnny began uncertainly, rising wearily from his place on the bench. The other two men followed suit, Max hastily wiping his eyes with his suit sleeve as Francis stuffed his rosary beads into his pocket.

"Hey," Jason half-whispered, taking a few heavy steps toward the small group. "Please, don't get up." He waved a hand at the group, nodding for them all to sit down.

Francis and Max uneasily resumed their seats in the first pew while Johnny remained standing. After a brief pause, he extended a hand to Jason.

"Come on, Jason. Sit with us."

Jason nodded once and slowly shuffled toward Johnny, sitting down with the rest of the guards on the wooden bench. After a deep breath, he turned to look at them, taking in the tired sag in their shoulders and the unfamiliar aura of defeat surrounding them.

"What are you three doing here?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Although surprised that his boss even had to ask, Francis was the first to speak. "We've been here since we heard last night, when Elizabeth was…brought in." He paused to clear his throat, coughing quietly into his fist. "We've been sitting here the entire night." He turned to glance at his two friends, each just as tired and worried as he was. His voice trembled slightly when he continued, and he fought to get it under control.

"I know that we should probably have checked in with you and Sonny first, but…" he shrugged his shoulders. "We heard the news and just…we just ended up here. All three of us. We've just been sitting and praying and thinking…about her." He shrugged again. "I don't think any of us could leave this chapel now even if we tried to."

Next to him, Max nodded. "It's more peaceful in here." Crossing one muscular leg over the other, he proceeded to pull and stretch at the small white handkerchief in his large hands. "Out there, everything's so…_bad_, for lack of a better word. It's chaos out there; pandemonium. Everyone's rushing around, everyone's in a hurry, no one's even bothering to listen to anyone else. There's so much pain and turmoil out there. And I don't mean just because of…her. I mean in general. A hospital is a terrible place to be, regardless the circumstances. I mean, except if you're having a baby, I guess, but that's different."

He paused, still squeezing the handkerchief and twining it around his knuckles. He looked up from his lap, and Jason could see the wetness in his large brown eyes. "It's so peaceful in here. I, we, can sit and just…_be_ here. I can pray for her, for Emily, for everyone who has to be here. I can pray for the Quartermaines, I can pray for the doctors and nurses that work here. But most of all, I guess I can just sit here and think about her. Sit here and be away from all the tears and anguish outside, and just sit back and reflect on my favorite little girl in this whole town. I just…I can't do that out there."

He looked away, the candlelight illuminating the hard lines of his face, his strong jaw. Jason studied his shoes, not knowing what to say and not even wanting to say anything. Next to him, he felt Johnny shift slightly.

"I guess the best thing about this chapel for me," the guard began, running a trembling hand through his wild brown spikes, "is that this place gives me a reason to believe that someone out there, someone _up_ there, is watching over her."

He stared at the tiny candles laid out at the feet of the statue of Mary, the tiny flames winking somberly at him. "Someone is watching over her, and someone is going to make sure that our little girl makes it back to those who love her."

He sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. Jason leaned back against the warm wood of the pew, studying his friend, taking in the strain etched in his face, the grief and anguish playing along his angular features. Johnny's eyes remained closed, his head bent in a reverent manner, as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"She _will_ make it back to the ones who love her."


	7. 07

_Again, regarding the medical junk in this installment, please remember that I'm just a hyperactive kid. So I hope all you doctors/nurses will excuse any errors I may have made. :)_

**Chapter Seven**

Courtney slowly opened her eyes, greeted by the harsh flourescent lighting of the lounge. Next to her, her sister-in-law was quietly humming to herself while filing a stubborn nail.

She slowly got up from her slumped position, stretching her shoulder and shaking the tingles from her arm. Carly looked over at her, smirking at the young blonde's tangled hair.

"Mornin', sunshine."

Courtney ignored the chipper tone, stretching her neck and glaring at her Movado wristwatch. "What time is it?"

Carly snickered. "It took you long enough, kiddo. I thought you were going to sleep all day."

"Mmm," Courtney sighed, running her manicured fingers through her long blonde tresses. "Where's Sonny?"

Carly sighed, her good mood dimmed. "He went to check on Elizabeth's condition again."

_Elizabeth. _Courtney straightened, biting back a yawn at the mention of the brunette. "How is she doing, do you know? She was just rolled in to the ER when I got here yesterday afternoon. Is she any better?"

"Well, she just went into surgery about half an hour after you came," Carly reiterated. Puzzled, she quirked an eye at Courtney. "And, hey, what took you so long, anyway? I thought you were coming with Marco."

"I was," Courtney answered quickly, flicking a lock of hair out of her face. "But I, uh, didn't feel too well, so I told him to go on without me. And then it took me, like, fifteen minutes to find the freaking Motrin. So I took some, grabbed the keys, and got here as fast as I could."

"Oh," Carly nodded, satisfied. "Yeah. Well, anyway, she was brought into the ER and they were working on her for a little while. Sonny and I waited in here, and Jason was with the Quartermaines. Then we went to see how it was going, and Monica and Alan were in Emily's room."

Courtney cocked her head to the side. "Wait, weren't they operating? I thought they usually handled the majority of the trauma cases."

Carly nodded. "Yeah, they do, but I guess it was just a little too close to home for them. You know, the old addage that doctors never operate on their kids?"

Courtney scoffed. "Elizabeth wasn't exactly their daughter, Carly."

Carly rolled her eyes. "Look, you weren't here a couple years ago, so you obviously don't know. Elizabeth and Emily have been friends since they were fifteen, and they were always together. Elizabeth was always hanging out at the Q estate, and Em was always at Audrey's house. Those two were inseparable, and Alan and Monica started to say they'd gained another daughter."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah, anyway," Carly continued, tossing her short blonde hair. "So we asked them what was going on, and they said that Dr. Mulrow – he's the cute blonde one we saw when I came to see Dr. Meadows – was operating on Elizabeth, and that Dr. Gandhi was being called, too."

"Who's Dr. Gandhi? Do we know him?"

"He's the neurosurgeon," Carly informed her matter-of-factly. "They think there was some swelling in the brain, apparently, so they needed him."

Courtney scrunched her brow. "Swelling? What does that do?"

"Well, when she was hit, her brain apparently smacked against her skull," Carly explained, making elaborate motions with her hands, "and the front and back part were hurt. So there may be swelling, and that was enough to put her in a coma."

"So she's in a coma?" Courtney asked, cringing.

Carly shrugged. "We don't know."

"Huh." Courtney leaned back against the couch, succumbing to another yawn.

Carly smirked at her. "What, still tired? You've been asleep practically since you got here. You're not hung over, are you?" she teased.

Courtney allowed herself a weak laugh. "No," she replied. "Just dead tired."

* * *

AJ reached for the phone on his father's desk, his elbow brushing against an old family picture. Setting the photograph straight, he punched in a telephone number and spoke in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, it's me. Did you move the car?" He listened intently, glancing warily at the door. "Good. Just leave it in the warehouse." He paused. "No, I know it's safe. The family hasn't used that facility in years. No one will find it. Yeah, use the truck. OK. Just call me if there are any problems. And remember to lock up good; I don't need any nosey kids playing cops and robbers getting involved in this. Yeah. Bye."

Dropping the phone back in place, AJ quickly got up from the leather armchair and rushed out the door, locking it behind him.

He glanced around, then calmly rounded the corner and made his way to Emily's room.

The man's eyes followed his every move. He had rushed to the Daily Bulletins board right after he heard the young Quartermaine end his phone conversation, and now reached into his pocket for his own cell. Flicking it open, he pressed the first speed dial button and quickly caught the first empty elevator.

Pleased with the privacy the tiny compartment afforded, he loosened the belt of his trench.

"Boss. It's me. The pieces are all fitting together nicely. He's arranged for transportation of the incriminating vehicle. Yes. To an old warehouse storage facility intended for use by ELQ. Yes, sir. The phone records are in the file Kenneth gave you this morning. All right, sir. Yes. I'm on my way now."

With that, he closed his phone and stepped out from the elevator onto the solid pavement of the garage parking lot.

"AJ Quartermaine, you're in for quite a ride."

* * *

John Mulrow emerged solemnly from the operating room, his long fingers wrapped around a medical clipboard. He had exchanged his scrubs for his normal khakis-and-polo uniform, a clean white coat billowing around him with each step.

Elizabeth Webber had been released from the ER half an hour ago, and was now in her own room in the Intensive Care Unit. She was in fairly critical condition still, but was being attended by several nurses every hour, so he had reason to believe and hope that things would look up soon.

But now came the hard part, the part they never prepared you for in medical school.

Now was the time to break the news to family members. Or in this case, friends.

Upon entering the Port Charles medical community a little more than six years ago, John had formed an especially close bond with the Drs. Quartermaine, even revering them as his mentors. Growing up on the wrong side of Chicago in a broken home, John had learned early on how important friendships were.

In those six years, he had become fairly close with the entire Quartermaine family as well. He knew AJ as the charming black sheep of the family; the well-loved yet well-despised heir to ELQ. Emily Bowen was a lovable and elegant young woman of enormous character, and her illness had hit the family hard. Ned was the Wall Street savvy peacekeeper with little in the ways of independent personality, while Edward and Lila were the undisputed monarchs of the family, although everyone knew Lila was often the one cracking the whip.

But besides knowing the immediate family, John had also gotten to know the extended family, the people not related by blood, but family regardless. He knew Reginald as the sarcastic and loyal young man that actually managed to spend all his waking moments with the family without going senile. Cook was the temperamental kitchen elf whose crepes were to die for, much like her volatile temper. He knew most of the characters associated with the vast estate, and greatly admired how the Quartermaines respected them.

And in those years, he had also become marginally familiar with young Elizabeth Webber, a fiery girl with abundant charm and compassion. He only saw her fleetingly, for she rarely stopped by the hospital as long as Emily or the others did, and she was in and out of the mansion as quick as a hare.

Around him, she had always been quite reticent, and he doubted hearing more than a sentence or two from her at a time. His surprise was apparent once he had recognized her after she had been brought in, but he had been schooled to behave professionally, and so he did. He did exactly what his professors had told him to do, and operated on her as if she was just another patient, refusing to let his emotions show until she was safely out of reach of his scalpel.

But there was one thing his professors hadn't taught him, one thing John knew they had wished their professors taught them.

It was how to deal with the family of a victim. And he knew there were no guidelines on the subject, no _Grief for Dummies_ books out at the nearest Barnes&Nobles.

He reached Emily's room and knocked gently before twisting the knob open. Poking his head inside, his gaze met that of the assembled family members.

"If it's all right with all of you," he began quietly, nodding at Alan and Monica, "I have some news on Elizabeth Webber's condition that I'd like to share with you. We can talk in my office."

With that, he pulled out of the room, walking slowly back to his office to await the family.

* * *

Alan was the first to get up. "Who else is coming?" he asked softly, glancing around the room.

Monica rose quietly, linking her hand with his. AJ rose as well, wiping his puffy eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief, and all three went to the door.

From her seat, Skye perked up. "Jason's not here. Aren't you going to call him?"

Alan turned back. "Do you know where he is?"

Lucky answered from his perch in the corner. "I saw him going into the chapel."

Luke snorted, unmindful of the dirty looks from Alan and Monica. "Chapel? Wow. Morgan's hardly the resident God-boy."

Alan rolled his eyes and left the room, motioning for Monica and AJ to go to John's office. He himself turned and headed down the hallway for the chapel.

* * *

Jason allowed himself a yawn, stretching out his shoulders and neck. His yawn must have been contagious because next to him, Johnny yawned as well, stretching out his legs from under the wooden bench.

"I need a shave."

Francis' low mumbling got a chuckle out of Max, who had stood up and was pacing at the back of the small church.

"I know what you mean," he answered, running a hand over the dark stubble that was forming on his chin and neck.

"Me, too," Johnny agreed, scratching at the brown hairs that pricked up on his chin. "I feel like a freaking porcupine or something."

Jason remained silent, his gaze not wavering from the small red glass candleholders.

Johnny gently nudged him with his elbow. "Come on, Jason, snap out of it," he demanded. "You've been in a god-damn-" he nervously looked around, then amended his statement, "You've been in a freaking trance ever since you got here."

Jason just nodded, looking down at his clasped hands and not even noticing as Francis groaned in frustration.

"We've got to snap him out of this," Max declared, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "It's not healthy."

"And what do _you_ know about healthy, Mr. Burritos and Booze?" Francis demanded, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at his friend.

"Bite me, Frannie. It's better than those spinach and dandelion salads and freaking bottles of Evian you inhale every day," Max returned crossly.

"Hey," Francis warned, rising from his seat. "Just because I want to take care of myself doesn't mean I'm some sort of-"

"Pussy."

"You god-damn-"

"Hey!" Johnny exclaimed, his brown eyes flashing. "Cool it, will you? Try to remember where you are for a second." He turned back in his seat, shaking his head.

The door opened with a slow creak and all men instantly turned to look. Alan stepped partially in, his eyes searching for his son in the dim light.

"Jason?"

"Right here."

"Elizabeth just came out. John has some information he'd like to share with us."

Wordlessly, Jason got up from the first pew and followed his father out the door. Johnny sighed and leaned back on the hard bench, with Max soon joining him. Francis got up and began to pace slowly around the church as Max had been doing, his rosary beads back in his hand.

* * *

John ruffled the papers he had pulled out of the clipboard, uneasy under the impatient stares of the Quartermaines. And the Morgan.

What made this experience even more daunting and awkward was the fact that the infamous Borg was finally in his company. John had heard many things about Edward's prodigal thug, and none of them good. He'd never met Jason personally, probably since the young man avoided his family and the hospital at all costs.

But now the hitman was in his office, sitting on _his _green leather couch, and all John could think was that he didn't want any of them to be here. If they weren't here, he wouldn't have to break the news.

Hell, it shoudn't even have been _his _news to break. It should have been Dr. Gandhi's. It was the neurosurgeon's field more than it was his. But where was Mr. Most Well Paid Doctor in GH? Hiding. Freaking coward.

John sighed deeply, not missing Jason's growl of impatience. Deciding the best way to approach the situation was to spill his news, he plunged forth.

"As you know, Elizabeth Webber was rolled into the ER yesterday afternoon as a result of a hit-and-run accident. She was unconscious upon arrival, with multiple head and body wounds. The ones sustained in the cephalic region were most likely caused by glass from the windshield, and only one was deep, for which she required stitches. The rest were fairly superficial, as were the ones sustained on her torso, brachium, and antebrachium."

Jason leaned forward on the slick couch, glaring at the doctor. "How about this, _John?_" he sneered. "You tell us exactly what happened and skip the damn medical terminology."

John raised an eyebrow at the man, refusing to say anything either of them would regret. He knew this was difficult for the family, and was willing to excuse Mr. Morgan's rudeness.

"We have reason to believe," he continued, ignoring Jason's outburst, "that Elizabeth hit her head on the wheel as she went into a state of unconsciousness. Combined with the effects of the rapid deceleration of the vehicle, and consequently her body organs, and you can understand that her brain sustained considerable damage."

Alan nodded, clasping Monica's hand in his lap.

"When the vehicle stopped as suddenly as it did," John went on, trying to keep the explanation simple for AJ and Jason, "her innards were still traveling at the velocity of the vehicle. Thus, her brain hit the inside of her skull, right at her forehead." He pointed out the area on a skeleton standing vigilantly near his desk.

"From the force of impact, her brain then hit the posterior side of her skull. Because of this, the dendrites in the neural pathways of her brain were severed. This severing resulted in an inundation of the chemicals, passing _through _the neurons, to be released into those areas of the brain."

He paused, his gaze meeting those of both brothers. "Because of the sudden release of these chemicals, the brain began to swell. Fortunately, she was already in the ER when this began, so the swelling was minimal and we were able to get it under control before it got out of hand and caused serious damage to the cerebrum."

AJ nodded, shifting closer to the edge of the couch.

"In cases where swelling has already commenced, portions of the brain may die. In some cases, total brain death occurs." Seeing their shocked expressions, John hastily explained himself. "I'm not saying that happened to Elizabeth. I'm just trying to add in some background information."

Jason glowered at the young doctor as he continued his explanation, handing charts and x-rays to his parents. Prick. He had no business bringing up brain death if it wasn't relevant to Elizabeth's condition. What the fuck was he trying to do – give them all a freaking heart attack? What the hell did they teach in med school?

He turned to look at his parents, both of whom were clutching the charts and x-rays in their hands. From their expressions, Jason could tell something was drastically wrong. Something even they hadn't planned on.

His chest constricted, his breathing borderlining on painful. The blood rushed to his ears and successfully drowned out John's words, his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure everyone could hear.

He clenched his hands into fists, his neatly trimmed nails threatening to bite through the flesh of his palm once more. His blue eyes frantically searched for the doctor, who appeared alarmingly downcast.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to calm down in order to hear whatever it was that John was saying. His parents sure as hell didn't feel like explaining anything.

His breathing slowed and became less shallow, his hands unclenching and settling on his knees. Jason slowly raised his gaze to John's caramel eyes, his ears trained intently on the young doctor's words.

"We fear Elizabeth may have suffered memory loss and possible brain damage."


	8. 08

**Chapter Eight**

"We fear that Elizabeth may have suffered memory loss and possible brain damage."

Time stopped. The world stood still.

At least for the inhabitants of _Dr. John Mulrow, Ph.D_'s office.

Unable to bear meeting the shell-shocked eyes before him, John's gaze fell to his hands, still clenching a record sheet. He slowly let it go, smoothing it out with a careless palm before setting it aside. Crossing his feet underneath his desk, the young doctor sought the courage to look up at his guests.

But even as he deliberated, a strong pair of hands grabbed John's overcoat and wrenched him from his leather chair. The chair spun to the side and John looked up barely in time to see Jason's face before his back was slammed up against the window.

He heard Monica scream, heard Alan yell, heard AJ's chair fall to the ground, but none of it registered. All John saw were the intense, blazing, fiery eyes before him. Erie. Haunting. Enraged.

Paralyzing.

Wind knocked out of him, the young man could barely hold a thought as he stared into the furious eyes inches from his face. The strong hands had long fisted in his overcoat, wrinkling his sky blue Hilfiger shirt and lifting John's feet an easy three inches from the ground. His slender reading glasses had slipped from his nose somewhere during the melee and lay somewhere nearby.

"Take it back."

The low growl barely registered in John's startled mind, and he struggled to decide if he had actually heard it.

"E-excuse me?" The words were a whisper, alarmingly sympathetic in the given situation.

"You heard me. Take it back, you bastard!"

He heard the words clearly this time, and as he tried to come up with something – anything – to say, he saw AJ and Alan's hands on Jason's shoulders and abdomen, wrenching the mobster away and forcing him to relinquish his hold on John's coat.

He slipped to the floor, stumbling for a moment until he regained his footing. Bewildered, he swept a hand through his tousled brown hair, deftly searching the green carpet for his spectacles. Finding them, he bent and retrieved the glasses. With trembling hands, he folded them neatly and dropped them into his breast pocket.

Blood rushed up into his face, swirling forcefully in his head and creating a nauseating sensation of weakness. He was certain his face was bright red, but he was uncharacteristically beyond caring. Barely able to hear anything around him as his head roared, John placed a pale hand to his eyes, another one grasping his desk for much-needed support.

Anger surged through Jason's body, coursing through his veins at a breakneck speed as he watched the doctor. Even as his brother and father struggled to restrain him, he kicked and swung with all his might, determined to break loose.

"What the fuck do you mean, _brain damaged?"_ he yelled, his voice booming and unchecked, full of anguish and disbelief. "What type of quack are you? Did you even try to do anything for her? Did you even _try_?"

John's head snapped up. He had quickly regained his composure and his eyes, although still weary, blazed. Pursing his lips, he resolved not to fan Jason's fire, knowing the mobster wasn't receptive to any explanation he offered.

"You heard me, pansy ass," Jason growled even as his mother stepped in front of him. "And you call yourself a fucking _doctor_."

"Jason-" John tried, stepping forward with his hand extended in an unspoken plea.

"_Fuck you!" _Jason roared, wrenching free of Alan and AJ. Monica stepped before him, placing both hands on his chest in an attempt to stop him from advancing on John.

"Jason, please," she started, stepping quickly to keep him at bay.

"No," he spit out, speaking directly to her instead of raging at John. "No – don't even-" He wobbled slightly, as if hit by a sudden but fleeting wave of vertigo.

"Jason," his father tried, spying an opportunity to get a word in. Watching the scene unfold before him and unable to come up with anything to say or do, AJ stepped away from his brother, careful not to touch him in any way, even accidental. He was certain that he was the last person Jason wanted to hear anything from, and knew that he was asking for a beating if he tried.

Jason's stomach rolled as he fought to keep his balance. The walls seemed to close around him, inviting his first assault of claustrophobia. Monica, Alan, and AJ surrounded him and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. His father and Monica's arms were outstretched as if they meant to catch him if he teetered off his feet, but the visual image of them was even more dizzying for him.

The room spun; its inhabitants spun in another direction. Despite the dull roar in his ears, he could make out two words: _brain damaged. Brain damaged. Brain damaged._

Brain damaged.

It couldn't be, he thought, choking down a sob. It just couldn't. It couldn't it couldn't it couldn't.

"Jason," Monica's voice was low and strained in an attempt to be soothing as she tried to hide her own grief. Her son's was more powerful and more important at the moment. "Honey, please, you're- you're making yourself sick. Honey, please-"

"Jason." Alan's voice assaulted him from the other side. "Jason, believe us, we understand the pain you're in…"

AJ stood his ground, his feet firmly planted to the floor as his hands drew up into tightly balled fists. _I'm here if you need me, Jason_, he thought to himself. _I know you won't let me near, and I know why. I'd do the same in your place. I'm here all the same, but I won't come forward unless you need me to. You need your space, your time; take it. But know that we're all here. _

Past feuds and grudges seemed to melt away according the times, he reflected. Gone was the pain, the anger, the resentment that had tainted his family's relationships with one another for decades past. The only thing _here_, the only thing _real_ was the grief that was overpowering the same room. He'd do all he could for his younger brother; he knew that now. Just like he did when their mother was diagnosed with cancer; all the bitterness that seemed to color, to _define_ each of them melted just that quickly when they really needed each other.

And even though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, AJ cherished those times. As tragic and terrifying as his mother's illness was, AJ treasured those moments his family had spent together at that time. Treasured how they all banded together to face off the newest foe, the newest adversary that threatened _all _of them. Not just threatened ELQ, nor the custody of the Quartermaine heir, but the enemy that threatened all of them. The family.

And he knew now, at this horrifying time with the family's two most treasured daughters in grave peril, they would all band together once more. And it was through that sense of unity and commitment that they'd make it through.

They just had to make it through.

John watched the three Quartermaines and the Morgan before him. His breathing and heart rate normal once more, John pondered over his deliverance of the news.

Could he have eased it some in its severity? Was it right to just come out with it? Could he have warned them in any way?

As the questions raced through his head, his caramel eyes found Jason. The once formidable, daunting mobster he had once dreaded meeting was now reduced to…a man. The man he most likely should have been able to see all along.

He had heard that Jason Morgan, the Quartermaine rebel of almost eight years now, was a cold, unfeeling robot. A machine. A Borg, in accordance with the town's nickname for the hardened career criminal. He had heard that the man had once assaulted Edward in his own living room, that he had once almost shot his brother in a dark alley, as well as thousands of other stories he saw in retrospect to be fabrications.

Anyone who said that Jason Morgan was an unfeeling, hardened criminal was as brain damaged as the town proclaimed he was.

His sympathetic eyes raked over Jason's posture. Shoulders slumped, the heels of his hands pressed at his brows in a futile attempt to beat back the unrelenting vertigo, John had rarely seen any man look so…vulnerable. Beaten. Destroyed.

He knew why Jason had slammed him up against his window; understood it as the mobster's primary outlet for showing grief or pain. Men like him, men of power and consequence, knew few other ways of showing grief.

His father was like that, so John had little trouble understanding why Jason was. Growing up as the son of a Chicago Police Commissioner, John understood violence and pain better than most of his colleagues. There were nights when his father would come home and fling the first item he touched across the room. Nights that he'd bellow and rage and spew fire for the smallest of offenses, such as his youngest sister's Barbie dolls left on the stairs, or his Batman roller skates accidentally left on his mother's white tiles.

Those were the nights that he and his two younger sisters would flee to his room, and he'd read Dr. Seuss books to them in a booming voice, trying to shield them from his father's yelling on the floor below.

Did he understand why he had been slammed up against the window? Yeah.

Did he understand why Jason was so upset? Hell, yeah.

And yet even after all his communication classes during the brief period during which he decided he wanted to be a diplomat, John Mulrow could come up with nothing to say.

And perhaps it was better that way, he decided, sinking wearily into his trusty chair. This was for the family to deal with. And no matter how much he admired and cared for the Quartermaines, he wasn't family. And it wasn't his place to help them through their grief; they'd only be able to do that on their own.

Jason's head spun as his mother and father spoke. None of it made sense; _nothing_ made sense anymore. Nothing would ever make sense again if this were true.

"Oh, sweetheart, things _will_ make sense again," his mother assured him brokenly, and Jason realized that he had been repeating his thoughts aloud. "They will, Jason. Everything will be fine; we'll make it fine. Things have a way of working out."

"No," he whispered raggedly. "You can't say that. None of you can say that," he stated flatly, pointing a trembling finger around the room. "That's fine when you lose your job or make a mistake, but it's not fine now."

Seeing his father open his mouth with well-meaning words of protest, Jason preemptively cut him off. "It's _not_. Saying 'everything will be fine' won't fix this. Don't you see? It can't! _Nothing _can fix this!"

He wobbled once more, his anxious eyes traveling from face to face. He saw the grief in his parents' eyes, the anguish in AJ's, even the sympathy and understanding in John's. But he wanted none of it.

"Nothing can fix this!" he repeated once more, his voice louder and angrier, the words spilling out rapidly, one after the other. "She won't be _'fixed'_ just because we convince ourselves that she will, or even if we promise ourselves we won't make the same mistakes. Don't you get it? She won't be _fixed_, period!"

"Jason, don't say that!" Monica yelled, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. "You have no right to say that! Who do you think you are? Who are you to say she won't? Who are you to steal our hopes?"

He reeled to face her. "_Steal your hopes,_ Monica?" he repeated, incredulous. "Is that what I'm doing?"

Monica set her lips, refusing to back down. "We can hope and we can pray," she repeated firmly. "No one should ever be able to convince us that she won't be fine one day."

He shook his head, unable to believe his ears. She was totally missing the point. "Don't you get it!" he yelled, his hands fisted. "No, no, of course you don't. You never do." He spun slowly, glaring icily at all three of them. "You just _can't, _and you never will." The words were bitter and accusing.

Alan stepped forward. "Don't talk to your mo-"

"Face it," Jason growled, his eyes hard and cold. "She's not going to wake up one day and just be _fixed_, no matter how much you want her to; no matter how much you _hope_ or _pray_."

"Jason-" Monica's voice found him, cold and harsh in her fresh grief.

"No," he shook his head, backing slowly away from the group. His legs wobbled but he managed to keep his footing. "Don't you get it?" His voice dropped to a whisper, ragged and broken, each word wrenched deep from within him. "Don't you understand? Why can't you understand?"

AJ finally moved forward, his arms now outstretched, fearing that his brother might tip over at any minute. His brows were drawn together as the meaning of Jason's tirade hit him. "Jason-"

Jason didn't hear him, didn't see him, didn't feel anything as his knees gave out beneath him. He fell to the floor, his hand falling on the smooth, cool leather of the tan couch. His head fell forward, his other hand limp on his thigh.

"_I'm_ the one that's supposed to be brain damaged. _Me._ You tried so hard to fix me. It never worked." His blue eyes lifted to meet the comprehending ones of his parents and brother. "_I'm_ the brain damaged one. I'm the one that's _dim-witted, half-baked, 'not in full possession of my faculties'. _Not her."

He swallowed a sob, its force making his shoulders quiver. "It never should have had to be her."


	9. 09

**Chapter 10**

Lucky and Skye were perched gingerly on the leather couches in the waiting nook by the elevator when they saw Jason all but streak down the hall. He was breathing hard and his face was flushed, and it was a small wonder that his trembling legs could hold his body upright.

"Jason-" Skye's voice died in her throat as the brunette stood up hurriedly, anxious to question her older brother when he pounded the elevator button once, let out a muffled roar of frustration, and took off down the stairs.

Next to her, Lucky was equally confused. "What the hell was that all about?" he muttered, raking a hand through his uncombed blonde spikes.

Skye closed her eyes with a broken sigh, tears already gathering. She told herself she wouldn't cry anymore, but it didn't seem to be the most realistic goal she'd ever set for herself. There was no escape from the shroud of desperation and misery that had suddenly cloaked the Quartermaines, Cassadines, and Spencers alike. No escape. She'd come out into the hall to get some air with Lucky, and all they could think about was Elizabeth in the operating room. If she went back into the hospital room to seek refuge from that, there would be poor Emily, barely managing to breathe without the assistance of some medical apparatus.

"It can only mean one thing," Skye got out, her voice torn with a hint of tears. "And it can't be good."

"Don't say that," Lucky barked through gritted teeth. "You don't know that."

Skye turned on him, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. "Why else would Jason be running like he was being chased by demons?" she demanded, a fire blazing in her emerald eyes. "You saw him – he's never like that. It could only take something big to make him act out like that."

Lucky huffed in annoyance, shouldering past her. "Let's just wait for some actual news before we start jumping to conclusions." His voice was firm and the words were clipped, and even Skye knew not to push the young man any further.

From the two days she'd spent in the vicinity of Lucky Spencer, her respect for the young man had grown considerably. She had always pegged him as an arrogant, carefree college kid, just like any other guy of his age: thinking he knew everything about life and that his judgment was infallible.

But she had soon realized how wrong she had been. Gone were her visions of an egotistical photohound working in his mommy's company. What replaced them was the image of a capable young man trying to hold his family and friends together while trying to make something of himself. And she admired that greatly.

She knew how much he cared about both girls – anyone who looked at the boy would. Emily was the world to him – his first friend in a truly turbulent childhood, his best friend. And the sight of her lying helpless and pale on a cold hospital bed was almost unbearable for him.

But even more unbearable was the thought of another young woman on an operating table – Elizabeth Webber. Skye didn't know much about the two of them, but she had heard they had been together for longer than she'd been back in PC. Alan had said they were almost married, and from the look on Lucky's face when AJ broke the news, Skye knew better than to doubt it. She had never seen a man look as devastated, as broken, as when Lucky Spencer found at that his first love had barely managed to escape Death's clutches.

That is, until she saw Jason.

At that moment, Alan, Monica, and AJ appeared in the hallway, all of them walking solemnly toward the waiting nook. Skye's face fell at their expressions: all were drawn and tight, clearly miserable and numb.

Next to her, Lucky moved forward, her blue eyes anxiously darting from AJ to his parents.

"Well?" he asked hurriedly, unconsciously clenching his hands into tight fists. "What's the news on Elizabeth? Is she going to be okay? She's got to be okay, right?"

Monica sighed, looking down at the floor. A thick ball of tears found its way to her throat, leaving it tight and constricted. After the mentally exhausting meeting in John's office combined with her youngest son's breakdown, she herself wasn't in any shape to divulge the news to the others.

If she had hoped Alan would do it, she was disappointed. Her husband was just as desolate, and his large brown eyes found his daughter's. Skye's heart sank at the look in them: they were empty and defeated, and she'd never seen her father look like that before.

AJ stepped forward, tears crowding into his deep brown eyes as he struggled to find the right words. "They're done operating," he got out, barely managing to look Lucky in the eyes.

The young man's shoulders slumped in relief, and a soft sigh escaped him. It comforted him to know that Elizabeth wasn't still lying on a cold, stark table anymore. But AJ's eyes told him there wasn't much else to be relieved about, and Lucky braced himself for the news.

"How did the operation go?" Skye's voice broke in hesitantly, and AJ could hear the genuine concern and worry in her voice. But along with that, he could hear hope, and he thanked God that at least someone had managed to still hold on to that.

"It went as well as they could have hoped, given the circumstances," AJ replied slowly.

In front of him, Lucky crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't like the sound of that at all."

"Neither do I," AJ agreed, rubbing a hand over the stubble that had formed on his chin and neck.

"AJ, what happened?" The question was more of a statement, a plea from his sister to just get the information out in the open at last. And AJ couldn't refuse her, especially when he knew he couldn't keep it bottled up inside. It was up to all of them to deal with it together; it was their collective sorrow and loss.

"They did the best they could." AJ's voice was drawn and weary, and Skye and Lucky unconsciously held their breaths as they waited for him to speak. "John Mulrow – you remember him from around the house, Skye – was the main doctor, and he called us in to talk about the operation. She's in Intensive Care right now, and they're checking her continuously."

Alan and Monica slipped quietly away, not wanting to hear anymore. Their footsteps echoed down the hall as they made their way to their daughter's room.

"When Elizabeth was hit, her body slammed forward against the wheel, and then back. To that extent, there was damage to the frontal lobe."

Lucky's nails dug into the skin of his palm, drawing blood.

"There's almost a certainty of brain damage."

* * *

Nikolas looked up as the door clicked open, his tired chocolate eyes falling on an equally tired Monica and Alan. He tipped his head in solemn greeting, resuming his awkward position in the plastic chair when they returned it.

Monica moved toward the bed and took a seat next to her daughter's unconscious form, gently stroking the hair from Emily's drained face. Alan took up the seat next to Nikolas, sagging into it with visible exhaustion.

Nikolas waited a moment before turning to the man. Alan noticed the hesitant look clouding his dark eyes, and instantly knew what was coming.

"What's the news on Elizabeth, Dr. Quartermaine?"

From her seat on the bed, Monica's head dropped slightly and her hand fell limply onto the beige blanket. Alan's eyes raked over her, poor posture and all, and he leaned his head back against the wall. His voice when he replied was hushed and worn.

"AJ's in the hall by the elevator with Lucky and Skye. He'll fill you in."

A quiet shuffling next to him told him that Nikolas was already on his feet and making his way to the door, doing his best not to disturb the other inhabitants of the room.

Luke's piercing blue eyes found the young Cassadine from across the room and he nodded once. Sparing a single glance at a slumbering Zander sitting on the floor next to him, the elder Spencer, shifted his weight to his ankles and lifted himself up, wincing when his knees reminded him that he was no longer a young man.

Together, Luke and Nikolas made their way out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.

The hallway lights were bright and unwelcome to their eyes, which had become accustomed to the dim lighting of Emily's room.

Luke's hand fell heavily on Nikolas' shoulder as the two men walked silently toward the main desk. The waiting area was empty, and Luke scanned the halls quickly. Nikolas followed his lead, then spotted a downcast Amy at the information desk.

"Amy?"

She looked up from the papers she was shuffling, her blue eyes tired and wistful.

"Have you seen Lucky or AJ or-"

The blonde pointed down the hall, her lips pursed. "They're in the first conference room," she replied quietly, turning back to the papers in her hand.

Luke nodded. "Thanks."

The two men walked quickly to the conference room, and Luke gently squeezed his stepson's shoulder before entering.

"No worries, Little Vlad. No worries."

Nikolas nodded, his brows furrowed. "No worries."

The conference room was dimly lit. Small, modern looking leather couches lined the wall neatly, and clean end tables held up sleek green lamps. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling had been dimmed considerably, and their eerie glow shone down on the three inhabitants of the room.

Lucky had his hands braced on the wet bar, his shoulders trembling. The blonde raised his head when he heard the door open, and his haunted blue eyes met those of his father and brother.

He made an exhausted motion to move, dragging his hands off the wooden counter and trying to steady himself despite the watery feeling in his legs, and Luke swallowed nervously when he noticed the several smears of blood that marred the clean wooden surface.

"Cowboy?"

Nikolas' sigh was audible as he spied AJ and Skye a few feet from Lucky. Skye seemed even paler, and a shaking hand covered her mouth. Her stunned eyes were still trained on a dejected AJ, who was studying the floor.

"W-What's going on?"

Lucky set his mouth, his lips a tight white line. The tall blonde stalked over to them, his footsteps pounding on the carpeted floor. AJ, too, turned to face the newcomers, raking a hand through his uncombed and disheveled brown hair.

Luke stepped forward a bit as Lucky advanced, not trusting the look in his son's eyes. "Cowboy –"

"Did you hear the news, Dad?" Lucky's voice was hard, the words terse. "No, I don't suppose you have." He cocked his head to the side, his piercing eyes moving from his brother to his father. "Why don't I take the liberty of filling you in?"

Nikolas swallowed nervously at the rage that cloaked Lucky's voice. "Lucky, man –"

"Shut up," the younger man countered smoothly in a no-nonsense voice. "If you _knew_ what happened to her," he continued, raising his voice, "then you wouldn't be asking me to calm down, would you!"

Nikolas bit his lip, darting a nervous glance at Luke. The elder Spencer stood still, his eyes not wavering from his son. Nikolas could sense the fear in his eyes, the worried anticipation in his tense posture, but the man didn't act on it.

"Then tell us, Cowboy."

Lucky turned away, sweeping a hand through his hair. "If I knew who did this to her, I'd wrap my hands around his throat and kill him myself."

Luke stepped forward, extending a hand to touch his son's shoulder, but Lucky suddenly whirled around again.

"Do you know what that bastard did to her, Dad?" Gone was the anger; in its stead was a voice broken and ragged with despair.

Nikolas stepped closer, shaking his head slowly. He knew better than to say anything, so he remained silent, watching, waiting for his little brother to go on.

But Lucky couldn't, and his mouth twisted as he tried to stifle his sobs. Failing miserably, he looked away, fresh tears building up in his eyes.

AJ stepped forward, his sympathetic brown eyes falling on Lucky's weeping form. He felt responsible for this turn of events, and had decided it was also his responsibility to take the brunt of the consequences. A proverbial penance, almost: he committed an evil deed, and now it was his duty to make himself suffer for it.

"The doctors say that there is almost a certainty of brain damage."

Nikolas gasped, and Luke's tough façade was shattered. The two gaped at him in stunned silence as a wave of sobs assaulted Lucky.

"No-"

AJ nodded, looking away. "If she wakes up, they'll be able to see how extensive it is. If there are any other disabilities with speech or movement." He trailed off, clenching his eyes shut as he heard Nikolas choke down a sob.

"God."

The young man's shoulder's trembled, and his younger brother moved closer to him. Nikolas' head was bent, a few tears already dripping from his face onto the carpet.

"This can't be happening," he got out, covering his face with his hands. "First Emily and now – this? God, how much can we take?"

Luke swallowed hard, tears blurring his own vision. It all seemed so surreal. Just yesterday, he'd met Elizabeth at the hospital – just outside by the desk – with a large stack of Sesame Street books. When he'd teased her, she told him she was donating them to the makeshift children's library in Pediatrics. Together, they had managed to bring in all the books and puzzles and board games from her car as the brunette chattered happily away about an idea for a new mural in the Children's Department should her old one start to fade or chip away.

And now – now he didn't know if she'd ever be able to make it. Or even remember the idea.

"She'll never be the same again, will she?" Lucky sobbed brokenly, wiping a hand across his nose. "She's gone."

Luke stepped toward him, wrapping an arm tightly around his son's broad shoulders. "Don't you say that, Cowboy," he ground out fiercely, successfully managing to disguise the tears in his voice. "Don't. We don't know that."

"But what are the odds that she'll ever be okay again?" Nikolas asked, his eyes already red and swollen. "W-We saw what happened to Jason. Medical student one minute, and the next-"

The young man was unable to finish, and Luke wrapped his other arm around the boy. Pulling both of them to him, he bowed his own head in silent prayer as they all sobbed.

"We'll get through this, boys," he promised them, tears coursing a slick path down his cheeks. "Whatever it takes, we'll all get through this. Angel included."

* * *

From outside the conference room, AJ watched the small group. He had slipped out a few minutes earlier, not wanting to disturb them. Skye remained seated in the couch, her empty green eyes staring at the ceiling. Shoes off and legs folded under her, the redhead seemed more listless and tired than AJ had ever seen her.

And Luke – he had certainly never seen Luke break down like that. He knew that Elizabeth was like a daughter to the old man – a sister to little LuLu and a best friend and confidante to the boys. But the sight of the three of them, still huddled together, the boys' heads on Luke's shoulders, still surprised him.

It was a dull kind of surprise. It was the kind of surprise that came from seeing something unlikely happen, the kind of unlikely that could only accompany some significant event.

He rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door, a dull thud resonated through his head upon contact.

And he'd certainly never seen Jason break down like that.

After his tirade in John's office, Jason had lit out of there as fast as his wobbly legs could carry him, not even bothering to wait for the elevator as he pounded down the steps, no doubt taking them three at a time.

And now he'd disappeared, and no one knew where.

AJ sighed heavily, turning to lean his back against the door. He couldn't take this anymore. The guilt threatened to consume him, and all for what? What was he doing it for?

To help Courtney? Certainly not.

His initial idea had been to use it to blackmail her and somehow manage – with a great deal of legal finaggling – to regain custody of his son.

But the minute he saw the license plate on the bent and twisted Acura, all that had changed. Blackmail had dropped instantly from his mind, and his only thought was of getting Elizabeth safely to the hospital.

And as devious as he knew he was, he also knew that he wasn't capable of going on with this. As important as his son was to him, the road to getting him back home was too arduous and painful.

Enough. It was time to come clean.

But how?

Instantly, he knew. Inside the conference room, neither the Spencers, Nikolas, or Skye noticed AJ slip away. The young man walked toward the elevator, calmly pressing the button and waiting. He knew where he was headed.

He just hoped he wouldn't lose his nerve before he got there.

* * *

The water lapped quietly against the docks, but the sound still invaded Jason's conscience. The seagulls screeched overhead, unmindful of how the hardened enforcer beneath them was teetering over the edge of sanity.

He sat stock still on the wooden bench, staring out at the water beyond but not really seeing it. Spoon Island was off in the distance somewhere, but he didn't really care. The only way he found out was because Elizabeth would point it out sometimes.

The meeting in John's office had all but drained him mentally, physically, and emotionally, and it was all Jason could do to just sit there.

For once, he wanted to be totally and completely alone.

No Sonny. No Carly. No Michael. And no Courtney.

No responsibilities or problems or duties. That was what he wanted. He wanted to just sit and be, as Elizabeth was so fond of saying. It had all been too much for him to absorb – first his baby sister, and now his…

His…

His what?

His friend?

No. They were never really friends.

His 'more than friend', then?

Hardly. They weren't even on speaking terms.

His ex-girlfriend?

Barely. They weren't even really together, so that couldn't be it.

His what?

What was Elizabeth to him?

She was nothing and then she was everything, this much he knew. There had never been any real words to say what she was to him, and that was never more true than now.

Not his friend, not his lover. Not a thing in between.

She was Elizabeth. And that was all she ever needed to be.

His conclusion was a true one, but it didn't satisfy him. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to just sit, with only the water and the wind for company, and think about what she was to him.

And by God, he wouldn't leave this spot or do anything until he had figured it out. She deserved that.

But the steady fall of footsteps interrupted his reverie, and Jason looked up angrily, his piercing eyes searching for the intruder.

The only person in sight was a very nervous and very apologetic AJ.

Jason sighed, looking away. AJ was the last person he wanted to see right now. He resumed staring stoically out at the water, hoping that AJ would take his posture and his silence as hints and beat it.

But his brother chose not to.

Firmly, with more resolution than Jason had seen in him for a long time, AJ stepped up right next to him. When he spoke, his voice was solid and clear.

"We have to talk."


	10. 10

**Chapter Ten**

"We have to talk."

Jason sighed, shaking his head as he resumed staring out at the water. The last thing he wanted to do was talk. The last thing he wanted to do was open his mouth and be expected to form a coherent thought.

"Go away."

AJ set his jaw, his hands fisting at his side, and edged closer to the bench his little brother was occupying. "Jason-"

"I said get the fuck out of here." Jason remained unmoving, staring out at the water with a concrete mask. His large hands were clasped in his lap, so tightly that AJ could see that his knuckles were alarmingly pale.

After hesitating for a moment, AJ quickly slid onto the bench next to him, hoping that his brother wouldn't give way to a sudden burst of animation that would leave his own butt against the planks. He glanced at Jason in apprehension, but the young man had yet to move or even acknowledge his presence on the bench.

"Look, I-I have to tell you something."

"I won't say it again – fuck off."

AJ swallowed nervously. "It's about Elizabeth-"

In a flash he was met with Jason's intense blue eyes, eyes blazing with anger and ferocity. "_Don't_ talk to me about Elizabeth," the mobster growled, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he ground his teeth.

He turned away, resuming his silent contemplation as he studied the water without actually seeing it. It was an overcast day, and a thick gray and purple fog blanketed the water. Tiny lights blinked in the distance – Spoon Island.

Elizabeth loved islands.

Sonny sent her to his private island a few years ago during the Spencer/Cassidine war. Jason didn't know why, and he never asked. Nor did he ever work up the courage to visit her.

But he did know that she loved it.

Francis was with her on the island. It was him who Jason got all his information from. Elizabeth loved it there – the sunshine, endless expanses of wheat-colored sand and topaz waters, exotic wildlife that crept in the recesses of lush vegetation. She absolutely adored it and almost hated to come home.

Yachts.

She loved yachts.

Big, white yachts to sail the Mediterranean.

She had told him that in his penthouse, back when she lived there with him. God, it seemed like ages ago. And it was only a little more than a year. He'd be kidding himself if he said that the four walls of his gloomy penthouse could hold her in. Her presence invaded it, took it by surprise. Took _him _by surprise.

And it felt wonderful.

It was like a godsend to hear her waking up in the morning, thumping and cursing as she tripped over her clothes and various accessories that were always strewn about the floor of the guest room. To walk into the bathroom and see her tampons tucked way back in the cabinet, her ginger-and-white-tea lotion on the shelf, her curling iron in the drawer. Even her Midol had found its place in his medicine cabinet, next to the rubbing alcohol and his aftershave. He loved coming home at night and finding the sandwich and brownie she'd always leave for him, along with a personalized note. It made his evening – the thought that she'd leave him a little note in her scrawling cursive literally pulled him through his assignment.

And that afternoon when she had gazed out on Alcazar's yacht…She was so at ease, and it floored him. It made his heart swell that she could have been that comfortable in _his_ home. It meant that he was at least doing _something_ right.

What were her exact words?

If I had a yacht… White… 

_Mediterranean…_

He'd buy her every single yacht in the world if she'd just wake up and be his Elizabeth again.

AJ cleared his throat. "We _have_ to talk, Jason." His voice was low and strained. "There's something I have to tell you."

"I don't give a shit," Jason stated matter-of-factly. "So go stuff it."

AJ rubbed his throbbing temple. "Jason-"

"You don't take hints very well, do you?" Jason asked, his voice even and drawn. "Do I need to write it in my blood for you, AJ? Leave me the hell alone."

In an instant AJ was on his feet and standing in front of Jason, blocking his view of the water. The affront had Jason leaping to his feet as well and the two brothers stood toe-to-toe, glaring at each other, nostrils flaring. Even though Jason towered over AJ, the older man refused to back off.

"I'll leave you alone _after_ you listen to what I have to say."

"For the last time, you little shit-" Jason's voice was cut off by the shrill ring of a cell phone.

Both men instantly reached for their pockets, pulling out their own phones and flipping them open.

"Hello?"

"Morgan."

The words were spoken in unison, and Jason's brow furrowed when AJ continued with a conversation while he was met with only a dial tone.

"Yeah – no, I'm not far. What? Louder! I'm on the docks. Yeah – I know where he is. He's right here."

This time Jason's phone rang, and he turned away from his brother to answer it.

"Jason?" A woman's trembling voice greeted him.

"Mo-" He caught himself before he called her _mom_. "Monica?"

"Get to the hospital. Hurry. She's awake!"

_Elizabeth or Emily?_ He didn't get a chance to ask because his mother hung up and the dial tone invaded his ears once more.

Without a word to his brother, Jason snapped the slim phone shut and dropped it into his pocket before taking off for the stairs, jumping over them in a single bound.

As he ran, he could hear AJ's footsteps echo across the wooden planks as well.

* * *

Room 124 was a-buzz with happiness. Gone were the tears of sadness and disbelief – in their stead were tears of joy and relief.

Emily Bowen, the light of the Quartermaine family, had opened her eyes and welcomed the world in.

A soft smile graced the brunette's face as she gazed around the room. Her entire family was there. Edward and Lila were both seated by the bed with her parents and Reginald. On the other side were Luke, Skye, and two of the four musketeers.

"It's a miracle," Monica kept repeating, squeezing Alan's hand as he pressed a kiss to her temple. "I don't believe it – Alan, it's a miracle."

"It is, sweetheart," was all her husband could say. "We've been blessed."

"You really scared us for a minute, there, Emmie," Lucky grinned, sweeping her long locks behind her ears. Some of her color was beginning to return to the brunette's face, distinguishing it from the pale sheets. Even her warm chocolate eyes were sparkling.

"Don't ever do it again," Zander whispered as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. Emily smiled, her eyes darting over to her grandfather. But instead of snorting with disgust at the public display of affection, the Quartermaine patriarch could do little but smile affectionately at the two youngsters.

"My dear," Lila began, placing a weathered hand trembling with age on Emily's soft one. "We never stopped believing and praying for you. You're our angel, love – we'd do all that we could for you. And you didn't disappoint us – you fought to get back to us just as hard as we did. We're so terribly overjoyed, my darling."

"Oh, grandmother," Emily smiled as the tears crept into her eyes. Lila's hand cupped her cheeks and stroked gently, and as she gazed into the older woman's eyes, so full of love and affection, her words died in her throat.

"Where are your brothers, I wonder," Edward mused, one finger tapping his upper lip. "I just spoke with AJ not ten minutes ago. They should be here by now. Oh, I hope traffic isn't too bad. It's been abominable ever since they closed up Harrison for repairs."

Monica smiled at the old man's serious ramblings. Sweeping a gaze around the room, she felt a fresh wave of tears assaulting her eyes. It was remarkable, all of it – Emily's victory over her coma, the hopeful recession of the tumor, the way the entire family pulled together during this time of need…It was more than she could believe.

Lucky, Nikolas and Zander were perched precariously on the bed, their long legs straining against the floor to brace their bodies, as there wasn't enough room for all of them to sit comfortably. As it was, they were sitting rather closely, and every now and then Lucky would shove his older brother further and further toward the edge. Luke and Reginald had abandoned any hopes of sitting close to the brunette and were pacing in front of the bed, talking and laughing together. From the snippets Monica heard, they were trading stories of Emily in her younger years. Luke was becoming acquainted with the time Emily dumped green-jello mix in the pool to celebrate St. Patrick's day, and was introducing Reginald to the beauty of the Foster-Annabelle affair.

Skye was seated with Edward and Lila on a plastic chair next to Lila's wheelchair. Days without sleep had left their mark on the fiery redhead, but had not extinguished the energy that fueled her ecstasy over her little sister's hopeful recovery.

Sonny, Carly, and Courtney sat in the uncomfortable plastic chairs by the windows, not wanting to intrude on a precious family moment but honored to share in the joy nonetheless. For a few moments, it was as if all the animosity between the Corinthos family and the Quartermaines was forgotten, and Monica had a hard time believing such a thing were possible.

She and Alan were seated on the bed close to their daughter, and neither could have been happier over the truly miraculous turn of events.

The only two people missing from this joyous scene were Emily's brothers.

No sooner had her thoughts turned to her sons than the two came bursting through the door.

Edward was the first to exclaim when they entered. "Boys!"

"Hello, my darlings," Lila echoed, her smile illuminating the room.

"Jason," Courtney whispered, her eyes following her boyfriend as he swallowed up the distance between him and his sister. He didn't even realize that the three of them were there.

AJ's grin was the widest Monica had ever seen, but his eyes didn't sparkle as brightly as they normally did when he was happy. He raced over to the beds and wrapped his arms around his little sister, lifting her an inch off of the bed. Carly shifted uncomfortably, the sight of AJ still being enough to make her skin crawl. "Em."

She giggled when his nose tickled her ear. "AJ."

He stood back, his eyes wet and shining, to let his brother pass. Jason stood still for a moment, just gazing down at his little sister. She gazed back up at him, a hint of a smile curving her lips.

When he finally bent down to hug her, Emily's arms were waiting for him.

"Hey, kiddo." The words were lost in her hair. Sonny smiled as he watched the scene before him, leaning a little closer to Carly.

Emily smirked. "That's the best you've got, Jase?"

He pulled back, not sure of what to make of her comment. "Not good enough?"

She shook her head, holding her arms up for another hug. "Always good enough coming from you, big brother."

He smiled and kissed her on the forehead, turning back and shooting Edward an apologetic glance when he bumped slightly into the older man. It was then that he noticed that Sonny, Carly, and Courtney were seated in the room as well, watching him. He tipped his head in greeting and Sonny did the same. Carly smiled warmly at him, her eyes telling him how happy she was for him. He glanced at Courtney, surprised at how he hadn't even thought to contact her ever since he found out about the accident, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. She smiled at him and he tipped his head again.

Emily was watching him and AJ when they turned back to her.

"I'd like to say I knew you'd be okay," AJ began, his voice soft and raspy. "But I wasn't that strong."

Jason nodded. "For the first time, I agree with him."

It took all Carly had not to snort.

Emily blinked, beckoning AJ to continue.

"But you were," AJ added. "You were more than strong enough. You made up for all our weaknesses, Em. You fought your way back, even when we were too scared to think you would. You're amazing, little girl," he added, watching her playfully crinkle her nose because she hated it when he called her _little girl_. "And I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Amen," Edward burst out with a stiff nod of his head. "But hopefully it won't come to that. Not in my lifetime, at least."

"Grandfather," Emily admonished, batting her hand at him. "Don't talk like that."

Whereas he would normally argue with her about the inevitability of death and age, Edward just smiled and complied. Courtney found herself wondering how such a vicious, unforgivably cruel old geezer could be such a lamb simply by being with his granddaughter.

"She's right," Jason agreed. "You still have a long life of trying to get Sonny out of ELQ, and chasing Zander out of the house, ahead of you."

AJ snickered. Had Jason just cracked a joke? Unbelievable.

Edward twisted his lips into a sour smirk, shaking his head at his grandson. "I shall never forgive myself for letting that oily Cuban snake his way into my company." Sonny could do little but smile – dimples and all – as Edward glanced furtively in his direction. _If looks could kill_, Carly thought. Still, she knew better than to call Edward on his rudeness at this time.

"Now, dear," Lila scolded. "Don't you say anything about Mr. Corinthos. He is a charming man."

Edward's eyes widened as Sonny turned his dimples onto his wife, who smiled engagingly back. "But, Lila-"

The matriarch just shook her head. "Edward, I won't have any of it. I am rather fond of Mr. Corinthos and don't mind his company at all."

"But I'll always be the first in your heart, right, m'lady?" Luke teased, his eyes trained on Edward as the older man sputtered.

"Well, I never-" Not knowing who to turn his wrath on, it was all Edward could do to glance menacingly at first Sonny then Luke, daring both of them to make another move on his wife.

"Edward, calm down."

"Lila, don't you see-"

"Calm down. You are making a scene and I shan't stand for it. Edward, do not test me."

Luke couldn't help but shoot the older man a victorious grin as he mumbled under his breath. "Mobsters and hooligans – my own wife prefers them to me!"

Emily was laughing, and even Edward's sour mood dissipated at the gentle sound of her melodic laughter. It just felt so wonderful to hear her laughter after so many days of silence.

"Nothing's changed, has it?" the brunette smiled. "Except that Jason's found a sense of humor."

Courtney smiled. It was the first time that she, too, had heard Jason joke around.

Lucky laughed. "We wouldn't dream of changing without you, Em."

Emily quirked an eyebrow at his smarmy tone. "Oh, yeah, sure," she scoffed, shaking her head at his sycophancy. "I believe _that,_ Spencer."

Carly shook her head. The little cowboy was _definitely_ his father's son. Smooth talking seemed to come naturally to _all_ the Spencers.

Nikolas smiled, stretching slightly in his awkward position on the bed. Next to him, Zander was also grinning. "So, am I about to see the famed Musketeers in action?"

"Perhaps," Emily smiled. "Although I'm not sure it's something you'll _want_ to see."

"Actually," Lucky interrupted, raising his hand. "I make a motion to change our name from the Musketeers to the Fab Four."

"Fab Four," Nikolas repeated. "Not bad. But I'm not sure if I like the idea."

"You're just resistant to change," his brother tossed back, rolling his eyes and not seeing how Nikolas scowled at him.

"Fine," he agreed immediately, his voice testy. No harmonica-playing, boy-band-highlight-sporting, punk kid was going to tell him that _he_ was resistant to change.

"No," Emily replied with a firm shake of the head. "Absolutely not. I veto it."

Zander smiled at the scene playing out before him. For the first time, it didn't really seem to matter that he wasn't part of this tight group, that he was on the outside looking in.

"You can't veto it," Lucky exclaimed. "It's two against one, blondie – learn to count."

"I'm not blonde!" Emily cried, grabbing a lock of her hair. "Do you see this? Red! It's red, man!"

"Are you sure? Maybe you dyed it for the fiftieth time and forgot," Lucky jeered. "Brunette, blonde, redhead – what the heck are you?"

"I'm sick of you, that's what I am!" Emily cried, trying to kick him but finding that her foot was tangled in the hospital blankets.

"Uh oh, Lucky," AJ broke in, clucking his tongue. "Looks like you stepped over the line."

"No kidding," Emily huffed. "Watch out, or I'll have my brother kick you out."

"I'd do it, too," Jason added, trying to hide his smirk. Monica watched his eyes twinkle at the banter between Emily and her best friend, and it made her heart flutter. If only for a few moments, Jason Morgan was part of the family again. And she was going to do her best to hang onto the feeling.

"We're the Four Musketeers and that's that." The brunette crossed her arms over her chest, daring Lucky to contradict her.

The blonde didn't disappoint. "Fab Four."

"Musketeers."

"Two against one. Eat it, midget."

"No way – Elizabeth'll side with me. Guys against gals, you know. Never fails."

The room descended into an uncomfortable silence. Reginald and Luke stopped pacing, both of them frozen in place. Edward withdrew a step, loosening his tie and averting her gaze. The smiles dropped off of the boys' faces, and even Skye began to study her fingernails. Sonny and Carly bowed their heads, leaving Courtney to pull at her sleeves and avert her gaze. _Shit._

Monica watched as a heavy cloud descended over Jason's countenance, the twinkle in his eyes retreating as his body tensed.

With a sigh, she reached for Emily's hand, looking straight into her daughter's bewildered eyes.

"W-what's going on?" Emily's gaze darted apprehensively from one family member to another. No one answered. "Guys? You're scaring me." She tried to chuckle, but the sound that escaped her lips was pitiful and did little to mask her growing anxiety. "Where's Elizabeth?"


	11. 11

"Where's Elizabeth?"

Luke exchanged uneasy looks with the boys, none of them making the first move to break the news. Zander brushed his bangs from his eyes and licked his lips like he always did when he was nervous. When Emily looked imploringly at him, he hastily averted his gaze.

Sonny sniffed delicately, covering his mouth with his hand. Suddenly, he'd have given anything to be able to excuse himself from the room.

Next to him, Carly was having similar thoughts, but did not possess the tact and reserve her husband did. Tact and reserve, along with the ability to hold down solid food, where the first things to go for a pregnant woman. The blonde cleared her throat, looking anywhere but at Emily when the young woman fixed her sights on her at the sound. "This, um, this is probably a family moment, so it might be best if we, um…"

She didn't have to finish; Sonny and Courtney were out of their seats before she did. The trio edged awkwardly toward the door, shooting apologetic glances at anyone they managed to bump into on the way.

"I always thought that Corinthos is a cowardly lion," Luke confided to Reginald, sneering as he did so. "At least his heartless tin man of a wife is brave enough not to hide. Usually."

"And I suppose you're giving me one guess as to who the Scarecrow is," Reginald remarked dryly, his lips curving into a grimace as he watched Courtney through the pane of glass on the door.

"Damn straight, Pookie."

"I told you never to call me that again."

"You were the one who told me to call you that in the first place."

"I was drunk – let it die."

"Well, ok, if that's the story you're using."

"Why do I hang out with you?"

"Because I get you free booze."

"Oh. I knew there was a good reason."

"Sure – you were just too drunk to remember it."

"Hello?" Emily's voice was laced with impatience. "Does someone want to tell me where Elizabeth is?"

AJ glanced around the room, noting that most eyes seemed to be on him. Screw self-penance. "I'm not doing it," he blurted out defensively. "I'm the one that told everyone else."

Alan sighed, taking off his spectacles and rubbing them with a handkerchief. "Someone do it," he muttered under his breath, not wanting to scare his daughter any more than she already was.

"Don't look at me," Luke muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Or him, for that matter," he added, tipping his chin at his son. "He gets all wiggy." Nearby, Ned put his hands up in the air, showing defeat. Jason remained motionless, staring at a point on the blanket but not seeing it.

"Not me," Skye mumbled. "I've been the bringer of bad news often enough."

"Mostly just by being present," Edward growled quietly, still smarting from Luke and Sonny's overtures to his wife.

"Put a sock in it, Edward," Lila commanded crossly. Alan and Monica stared at her in surprise. "And put those eyes back in your heads," the old woman directed, her brows furrowing. "And don't look at _me _to do it."

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Monica huffed. "Come on – there is no room for secrets in this hospital!"

Emily scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Once you get _past_ all the secrets, you're already out by the front door."

Monica widened her eyes at Alan, signaling to him that she expected him to step up to the plate and explain to their daughter why her best friend wasn't with them. He shook his head furiously and turned to glare at Ned.

Ned, in turn, snapped his fingers at Luke, who stared at him as if he'd sprouted three heads. Then the older blonde draped an arm around Reginald's shoulders, giving the young butler a firm shake to let him know he was It.

Reginald gave Nikolas, who was seated at the foot of the bed, a swift kick in the shins. The prince's growl of surprise was cut short as he shot daggers at the butler, then elbowed Lucky.

His brother gave him a _Fuck you_ look and smacked Zander upside the head with a flat palm. The boy rubbed his head resentfully and looked up to quirk a brow at Lila. Emily was watching this exchange with a mixture of irritation and foreboding, and had to keep reminding herself that if she interrupted this round of _Pin the Tail on the Scapegoat_, she'd never get any answers.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when her sweet grandmother glared at her boyfriend and shook a fist at him. Turning on her husband, she gave him a quick tap on the shoulder. "Edward, dear, I believe the task at hand lands on your shoulders."

"But – but, Lila, dearest-"

"Edward." There it was – that no-nonsense tone. There was no arguing with Lila when she used _that_ tone.

"All right," he growled. "But let the record show that neither the Blues Barfly over there or the Corrupt Cuban were man enough to do this."

"Duly noted," Lila chirped, clasping her hands in her lap.

"Finally," Emily sighed, leaning back against the pillow as she awaited her grandfather's explanation. What could have been so important that it would have prevented Elizabeth from being with her? Best friends were always there for each other, and Elizabeth had never failed her in her entire life.

_Is she sick?_ Emily wondered. _Does she have mono? Wait – you have to kiss someone to get that. Who would she have kissed? _Her eyes darted to Lucky, but she doubted it was him. _Is she out of town? Did something happen with her family? I swear, those people make us Quartermaines make us look like the Cleavers. AJ would probably be Beaver. Although I don't know if Jason qualifies as a Wally. Maybe she left the country, like when we went to Tijuana that year. Oh, my god – what if she's in jail? _A smirk rose to the girl's lips. _Go, Lizzie! Embrace your bad self!_

The sound of Edward clearing his throat jarred Emily from her rambling thoughts. He reached a soft hand, just as weathered as her grandmother's, hesitantly to clasp hers. His hand was large, she realized. It swallowed hers completely. And there was a certain gentle grace about him, something that made it possible for him to comfort her just by holding her hand.

"Emily, dear," the old man began. "What I have to tell you is not going to be easy."

The girl swallowed, nodding bravely.

"And I'm going to need some help," Edward added solemnly, glancing around the room. Monica and AJ nodded gravely, and even Luke stepped closer. Edward watched them carefully before attempting to continue.

"Sweetheart, I was the one that called Elizabeth when your condition worsened." His hands, his strong hands, were beginning to tremble. Emily watched as he raised one slowly to his head and patted his hair before replacing the hand on the bed. It was an awkward motion – incongruous. He seemed all out of sorts, and the knots suddenly forming in her stomach told her that there was a reason, and it couldn't possibly be good.

"Your mother called Jason at about the same time. We were standing just out there, see? We both made the phone calls while your father ran down from the ER. You'd have been proud of me, my dear. I learned how to use speed dial on that blasted cellular contraption your mother insisted I get."

Emily smiled, but it was more for her grandfather than anything else. He needed her to smile at his jokes.

"Jason got here in under ten minutes," Edward added, glancing at his grandson. Jason dipped his head but remained unable to meet anyone's eyes. "Everyone else was already here, and we were waiting for her."

"We knew she'd be here," Reginald broke in, folding his hands at his navel. "We knew she wouldn't let you go through this alone." His voice was soft and raspy, so low that Emily had to strain to hear him.

"That's not the type of girl our Angel was," Luke spoke up. He shifted uncomfortably, looking away from the girl in the hospital bed. "Nothing ever kept her from her friends when they needed her."

"Damn straight," Nikolas added, struggling to keep his voice normal. "She always put all of us first. I can't even count all the times that she dropped whatever was important to her just because we needed her." His thoughts drifted back to his father's resurrection, when Elizabeth had agreed to forsake Lucky and pretend to be with him. The rouse had almost cost Elizabeth her life, but the young woman went into it with her eyes wide open. Words could never convey how much he owed her for saving his family as well as the Spencers.

"You sound like you're giving a eulogy," Emily whimpered, her eyes on the young prince. She didn't even bother trying to hide the tears as they crowded into her eyes.

Jason let out a breath slowly, his hand resting flat against the blanket.

Edward licked his lips, trying to gather his wits enough to continue. "AJ arrived not too long after."

Emily's gaze swept over her brother as he shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"He looked like he'd been to Hell and stayed there," Edward added. "At that time, your mother and father's pagers went off."

"Which was really strange," Monica interrupted, "because everyone knew we were not to be interrupted."

Emily's own hands began to tremble, and she folded them together, hoping to hide her nerves. Her grandfather might decide to stop if he saw how this was affecting her, and she owed it to her best friend to be brave.

"AJ told us that Elizabeth had just been brought into the emergency room." Alan's somber voice relieved his father of the painful burden.

Emily gasped, her long fingers covering her mouth. "Oh, my god. What-"

AJ sniffed, stepping closer to the bed. "Maybe I should take over." Knowing he'd meet with little disagreement, the brunette shifted past Skye and chose a spot next to his grandfather. With no room to sit on the bed and nothing to lean on, AJ placed a hand on Edward's shoulder for support. The older man reached up and grasped it, squeezing gently and urging the man to continue.

"I was here for a while," AJ began. "I saw Jason come in. That was when I left. I didn't go far," he added, noticing the questioning look in Emily's eyes. "I went home to get that _Captain of my Dreams_ book." Emily nodded, shifting on the bed. Her eyes never wavered from her older brother's.

"I was driving and Skye called me up. She told me that just a minute or so ago, you showed signs of animation." He rushed ahead, not wanting to let himself dwell in the disappointment he had felt when he heard his sister stirred only to slip back into her comatose state. "You made a strange face, as if you were hurt."

Emily's eyebrows drew into a sharp V but the young woman knew better than to interrupt.

"We hung up and I turned the corner and…" he had to pause for a moment as the grotesque image flashed before his eyes. A new wave of hatred for Courtney, one that he had never felt before despite her lies and adultery, washed over him. To think that the woman didn't even have the good grace to show remorse or compassion as she should. Sure, she was upset, but anyone who knew would instantly see that it was more out of a fear for her own hide than Elizabeth's well being.

Emily's breathing hitched. Edward squeezed her hand hard while patting AJ's reassuringly. Lila bowed her head and her lips were moving slowly, softly, in reverent prayer.

Lucky got up from his perch on her bed and raked a hand roughly through his hair. Emily didn't even glance up as the young man quickly left the room, closing the door softly behind himself.

"There was an accident."

Emily closed her eyes. Lila's inaudible prayers turned into soft whispers. Nikolas could be heard daintily sniffing away his tears, trying to make as little noise as possible.

"It was Elizabeth's car – I recognized the plate." AJ's voice grew increasingly raspy and his throat began to ache as he fought to keep his tears at bay.

Luke stepped forward and gripped the metal railing at the foot of the bed. He stared off at a point on the wall behind Emily, his knuckles slowly turning a sickly yellow as he gripped the bar.

"It was pretty bent up," AJ admitted, massaging his neck. "It had been hit from the side – her side."

Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

"I ran up to it, and she was unconscious at the wheel."

A lump formed in his throat, but Jason swallowed past it. If there was a just God, she shouldn't have felt much pain.

"I called 911 and the ambulance came. I rode with her."

Edward patted his hand again. Ned cleared his throat quietly. "At least she wasn't alone, with strangers. You were there."

AJ dipped his head. "They rolled her into the ER when I ran back up. Mom and Dad had to leave to operate."

When he worked up enough courage to look at his sister, AJ's heart broke in two. Emily was trembling in the bed. Not before, when her hands shook ever so slightly from fear and anticipation. She was _shaking_. Forcibly. Noticeably. Her hands still covered her mouth, her eyes as wide as saucers and brimming with tears. He looked away, unable to witness his sister in so much pain.

"I-Is she going to be all right?" Emily sobbed, blinking her eyes to clear them. The tears that were pooled within spilled out and coursed slick paths down her suddenly pale cheeks. "Please, tell me she's going to be all right."

AJ shuffled his feet and looked away, and she didn't like how his eyes were shining and how his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed noisily.

Jason's hand fisted in the blanket, his knuckles growing as pale as Luke's.

Reginald had spun away from her and all she could see was his back. He braced both hands against the cream-colored wall of the room, pounding them softly. His head remained bowed.

Ned burrowed into his chair, tenting his fingers over his nose. His eyes were closed tightly shut. Next to him, Skye pulled her knees up and into her chest.

Edward released AJ's hand and patted him on the back, his own head bowed as Lila continued to pray, unable to quell even her own sobs as they interrupted the holy words.

Emily's eyes moved frantically from one family member to the next, seeking the answers their emotions prevented them from providing.

Lucky had long since left the room and Nikolas was wishing he had joined him. Next to him, Zander's shoulders slumped mightily.

Alan and Monica remained unmoving, their eyes trained on the sheets.

"Mom? D-Dad?" Emily's voice was soft and tremulous. "Please, I am _begging_ you, tell me she'll be all right." She was almost unable to finish her sentence, and Monica paused to wipe her eyes on her husband's handkerchief.

"We were called to operate," Alan got out. "Along with John. You remember him, right, honey?" Emily didn't nod, just gazed at him with terrified eyes. Alan hated seeing her like this. "She's in the ICU now, Emily. She's resting, sweetheart."

His father's gentle words were too much for Jason, and the hardened enforcer buried his head into the blankets of his sister's bed, pulling his legs up slightly off the floor as he curled up. Monica's chest constricted and she gently stroked his hair, soothing one hand up and down his back. She thought back to what he had said – how _he_ was the brain damaged one, and Elizabeth should never have had to deal with it, too, and it broke her heart even more.

"Come on, Dad," Emily choked out, watching her brother for a minute. He looked so broken and desolate. Her father was definitely trying to make light of things for her benefit. "Be straight with me."

Alan sighed and dropped his head. When he looked up at her again, Emily saw the lines of worry etched deeply into his face. He seemed to have aged ten years from the last time she saw him.

"We spoke with John not too long ago," he continued with much effort.

"Actually, it was last night," Monica broke in quietly, still stroking the hair at Jason's nape. Her son showed no intentions of moving, and that was fine with her. He didn't have to pretend to be strong for them.

A look of confusion crossed Alan's face as he pondered over his wife's words. Had that much time really passed? "Well," he began, having accepted what she said. "We spoke with him after they got her settled in the ICU."

Again with the kid gloves. "And?" Emily asked pointedly, new fears reducing her tears. She wanted everything out in the open – it wasn't her parents' call to shelter her from her best friend's ordeal. "Please – just tell me."

Alan nodded, trying to find his voice. "She suffered a blow to the frontal lobe, Emily. John says there's almost a certainty of brain damage."

Monica felt Jason tense up even more under her hand.

Luke dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, folding his arms over the railing for support. Behind him, Reginald abandoned his fist-fight with the wall and fell to the floor, leaning his back against it.

"W-What?"

The word hung in the air and Alan struggled to say the words again.

"There's almost a certainty of brain damage."

It was all Emily could do to just stare at him, her eyes and her mouth wide open. A sob claimed her then, and her shoulders shook with its force.

Edward's vision blurred as he watched her draw her knees into her chest, wrapping her hands tightly around them as her shoulders continued to shake with sobs. They grew louder, more choking. Zander gently drew her hair behind her ears when it covered her face, fearing it might suffocate her. She continued to wheeze and choke, and he caught fragments of words.

"That can't- No – she's too young – she can't leave me."

Alan leaned forward and enveloped her against his chest, smoothing a hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her ravaged body. Above her head, he met Zander's green eyes. He sighed and reached out an arm, pulling the younger boy into his embrace. Next to Zander, Nikolas, too, wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders, his own tears dropping onto the sleeve of Alan's omnipresent suit jacket.

Monica placed an arm over Alan's shoulder, squeezing tightly. He looked back for a minute, offering her a tight-lipped smile that she returned. Her hand never moved from her youngest son's head. She could feel him trembling as well and hesitatingly stroked his cheek in an attempt to get him to turn his face out of the blankets. A few more minutes and he'd start to choke just like Emily did.

AJ knelt on the floor next to his grandfather. Edward pulled the boy roughly to his side, and the minute his strong hands found AJ's shoulder, he knew his grandfather wasn't going to let him go. Ned grasped Skye's hand tightly, smiling at AJ when he turned around. When his cousin dropped his hand on Ned's knee, the older man squeezed it back, his eyes shining his respect for AJ's bravery.

Luke remained where he was, not moving. Edward shifted to glance at Reginald, who merely lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

And so they sat still, holding each other. Emily still wept, bitterly and angrily, pained beyond words at waking up to a world without her best friend.

Lila's soft whispers were louder now, and the Quartermaine matriarch's voice, usually so soft and tremulous, seemed to cut through the silence.

"Omnipotent and Eternal God, the everlasting Salvation of those who believe, hear us on behalf of Thy sick servant, Elizabeth, for whom we beg the aid of Thy pitying mercy, that, with her bodily health restored, she may give thanks to Thee in Thy church. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," Edward spoke softly, his head bowed.

Lila spoke on, her eyes closed and head bent forward in reverence as she recited a prayer for the suffering. "For those who suffer, and those who cry this night, give them repose, Lord; a pause in their burdens. Let there be minutes where they experience peace, not of man but of angels. Love them, Lord, when others cannot. Hold them, Lord, when we fail with human arms. Hear their prayers and give them the ability to hear You back in whatever language they best understand."

There was not a dry eye in the room as one word echoed throughout. "Amen."


	12. 12

**Chapter 12**

AJ rubbed his hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of a sleep-induced coma. It was late, and all the inhabitants of the room were having a hard time staying awake. Sonny, Carly, and Courtney had left earlier, but everyone else was still around.

Emily had finally fallen asleep, and dried tears still stained her pale cheeks. Edward and Lila sat vigilantly by her side, and would not be persuaded to go back to the estate to get some much-needed rest.

The boys were leaning against the wall with their hands on their knees. Zander was snoring. Alan and Monica were perched at the foot of Emily's bed, their hands clasped together, and Skye had pulled a chair up to her stepmother's side. Reginald still paced by the back wall, and Luke watched him. Jason was seated in a plastic chair right by the door, his jacket still on and his hands folded together, a stoic and placid mask having descended over his face.

AJ gingerly stood up from his uncomfortable chair and stretched his arms behind his back. His movement, however subdued, still attracted the attention of those who had not yet let sleep mercifully claim them.

"I'm going on a coffee run," he whispered. "Does anyone want anything?"

"What place is still open?" Alan wanted to know. "It's late – I'm not even sure if the hospital cafeteria's open."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure as hell not going _there_," AJ replied, rolling his eyes and earning a smirk from Luke. "I can run back to the house and brew up a couple thermoses of coffee, maybe pick up some sandwiches or fruit. What does everyone want?"

"Any kind of sandwich is good," Nikolas spoke up from the far side of the room on behalf of the two slumbering young men next to him. "Coffee, juice, water, whatever."

"We'll have the same," Alan agreed, gesturing to his wife and daughters. "See if there's any peanut butter – Emily can have it when she wakes up."

"Coffee would be good," Luke added. "I'm not really that hungry." He tipped his chin at Reginald, who was still pacing. "What about you, Pookie?"

The butler bristled. "I told you to stop calling me that." He scowled when Luke shrugged and then turned to AJ. "I can come back to the house and help, Junior."

"It's okay, Reggie," AJ shook his head. "No problem. What do you want?"

"Sandwich and just about anything to drink," the butler replied. "You sure you don't need my help?"

AJ nodded. "Positive. Grandfather, I'll try to have Cook fix up some fruit salad for Grandmother." His gaze turned toward Jason, who sat like a sentinel at the door. "Jason?"

"Nothing."

"Are you sure? It's no big-"

"Nothing."

"Jason, you really should eat something," Monica tried to persuade her son. "How about just a-"

"I'm not hungry."

AJ licked his lips, knowing better than to push the enforcer when he was in this mood. "All right. Be back in a bit."

He slipped out of the room and shut the door softly behind himself. The click of the door echoed through the quiet room like a gunshot, and no one made any attempt to break the silence.

* * *

An hour passed and AJ loaded two picnic baskets into the trunk of his car. Cook had been extremely helpful and had even helped him make all the sandwiches. She'd packed two thermoses of her own special stash of Columbian blend coffee – AJ suspected that she had purchased it from Sonny and Jason's faux coffee outfit – and had even included fresh croissants and mini eclairs.

The baskets safely secured in the back, AJ climbed in and started the car, maneuvering it out of the large garage and down to the gates. He waved at the watchman, who took the opportunity to inquire about Emily's health. AJ told him she was doing well and all tests were encouraging, and thanked him for asking before he turned onto the road.

Nighttime driving was in a league of its own. AJ loved how the roads were almost completely empty, how the streetlights twinkled against an inky sky and how the wind felt as it whipped in through the moonroof and all four open windows.

He had turned onto one of the typically busier roads when his cell phone rang. AJ sighed, realizing that he had not hooked it up to his car-phone set, and reached into his pocket. He didn't usually talk on the phone while driving – he thought it was a dangerous habit – but he figured it was okay this one time since the roads were so bare.

"Hello?"

The line remained silent for a moment before a silky voice invaded his ears. "_Mr. Quartermaine."_

"Yes," he answered, passing a black Jeep full of rowdy teenagers. "Who is this?"

The voice chuckled. _"Mr. Quartermaine, I have some business to discuss with you. You might know me as Lorenzo Alcazar."

* * *

_

Jason squirmed in his seat. Sitting for hours in a small plastic chair was not doing any favors for his back.

About an hour had passed since AJ left, and almost everyone had dropped off to sleep. Luke had left about forty minutes earlier, wanting to check up with Claude at the bar, but he assured his son that he would be back as soon as possible.

Edward and Lila had refused his offer for a ride back to the mansion, and Jason watched his grandmother as she slept peacefully in her padded wheelchair. Edward, however, did not look half as comfortable as he snored in a plastic chair identical to the one Jason occupied.

Alan and Monica had fallen asleep leaning against each other, and Skye was resting her head on the mattress. Judging by her slow, peaceful breathing, she was also asleep. Of the three boys leaning against the wall, Lucky was the only one that was awake. Zander had already fallen asleep, and Nikolas soon joined him, despite trying his best to fight off his fatigue. Reginald, having adamantly refused a ride back to the house, had fallen asleep next to the young prince. Lucky, however, was rested from his quick nap earlier in the night and now sat quietly, twiddling his thumbs.

Presently, the blonde sighed and managed to pull himself to his feet, taking great care not to disturb his slumbering companions. He shook the feeling back into his legs and slowly ambled for the door.

Jason's eyes met his as he passed. "Bathroom break," Lucky whispered in response to the questioning look he received.

The older man thought for a moment and then got to his feet as well, and both of them left the small room.

The hallways were empty, and the bright fluorescent lights cast an eerie glow on the waxed tiles. Jason and Lucky walked in silence, neither man even looking at the other.

The walk to the bathroom was a long one since the maintenance staff shut down the one located on their floor. They both stepped into the stairwell, Jason first, and took the stairs down to the lower level.

Lucky frowned when Jason stumbled on the last two steps, jerking forward and almost losing his balance for a brief moment before he was able to steady himself.

"You okay, Morgan?"

"Yeah."

An uneasy silence descended once again, and neither man said another word as they entered the restroom. They made quick work of relieving themselves and then moved toward the two sinks against the far wall.

Jason was already lathering up his hands while Lucky studied himself in the mirror.

"Damn, I look like Hell," he muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes with his palms. The dark circles there didn't disappear, and Lucky stretched the kinks out of his back. He lifted a hand to scratch his nape, and accidentally caused the cinch of the silver chain he wore around his neck to fall open.

The necklace and the silver pendant on it fell to the ground with a _clink_ and Lucky's accompanying gasp. Jason glanced down and stooped to pick up the metallic object, turning it over in his palm as he stood, trying to figure out what it was.

Lucky took it from his outstretched hand with a nod of thanks, and tenderly stroked the circular pendant. "Subway token."

"What?"

"It's a subway token," he clarified for the mobster's benefit. "I gave it to Elizabeth a couple years ago. She gave it back to me when we broke up." He shrugged, smiling softly, and refastened the chain around his neck. "She said it was for luck, I think. I always wear it when I need some."

He put an end to his rambling and glanced at Jason's reflection in the mirror in front of them, and was very surprised to see a light in the enforcer's eyes and an amused smirk touching his lips.

"Last I heard, quarters were good luck."

Lucky's brows furrowed as he tried to understand what the mobster meant. As much as he always hated to sound stupid around Jason, he had to ask. "Uh, yeah, okay, I can't really make heads or tails of that. What are you talking about?"

Jason was smiling now as he shook the water from his fingers and reached for a paper towel. "Quarters. They're the best kind of luck anyone could hope for."

"How do you figure?"

"Because Elizabeth said so."

The statement surprised Lucky even more than Jason's accompanying smile. "Huh?"

"It was about a week before her birthday." Jason didn't know why he was saying this to Lucky of all people. The two of them never got along and walked a fine line between uneasy tolerance and utter contempt. Still, the words just tumbled out of his mouth. "She had a big art project due and she wanted me to help her decide what to paint."

He turned to face Lucky then, and the boy noticed that although the man before him looked more haggard and drawn than he had ever seen him before, there was an energetic light in his cerulean eyes.

"It was about you, actually. She wanted me to help her decide if she should paint you on the docks or playing your guitar."

"Really?" Lucky couldn't help but smile as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one denim-clad hip against the sink.

Jason nodded. "Yeah. She was standing on the docks and I came up, and she told me it must be a sign."

"She was always big with those," Lucky chuckled. "Everything was a sign – a song on the radio, a TV show, the number of marshmallows that happened to be in her hot chocolate…"

"I asked what she meant, and she said that I had to help her decide what to paint."

_Elizabeth's smile lit up the dark docks. "Hey, this is perfect!"_

_Confused, Jason drew closer and placed his hands on his hips as he regarded her. "What is?"_

"_Running into you – maybe it's a sign."_

_Again, she may as well have been speaking gibberish. "Of what?"_

_But Elizabeth wasn't paying attention. "Or maybe it's a sign that you're going to give me a sign," she babbled on, excitedly tucking a few lacy tendrils of chocolate hair behind her ear. "Let me ask you – if there was only one painting of Lucky in the world, would it be a painting of him here or of him playing his guitar?"_

Lucky's grin was wide. "She really asked you that?"

Jason nodded.

The younger blonde, although having a hard time actually believing this, was nevertheless enjoying the story tremendously. "So what did you say?"

"_Why can there only be one in the world?"_

_Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Sometimes Jason could be too literal for his own good. "Because I only have one midterm art project, and I talked my professor into letting it be a portrait," she explained. "You know, painting Lucky was the reason I got into the Art Academy in New York."_

_Jason nodded hesitantly. "Oh, well – I don't know." The look on Elizabeth's face had him searching for an answer anyway. "You know, the docks are bigger. But guitars actually look harder to draw."_

_Despite his best efforts, she didn't seem satisfied by the response. "Well, that's no help. I need a decision."_

"But why from you?" Lucky asked.

"That's what I wanted to know," Jason informed him seriously.

"_Because you're here, you knew Lucky, and I'm tired of thinking about it."_

The younger blonde rolled his eyes. "Classic Elizabeth."

"_All right," Jason agreed. "Fine." He pulled a quarter from his jeans and held it up for her to see. "Heads for the docks, tails for the guitar, ok?"_

Lucky was laughing. "You know, that's how we solved a lot of our arguments back in the day."

Jason shrugged. "Whatever works."

"_OK." Elizabeth didn't sound too sure, as if she wasn't prepared to consider relinquishing such an important decision to an impartial coin. "Do it."_

_Jason flipped the coin high in the air and was preparing to catch it when Elizabeth's fist closed around it in midair. _

"_OK. Guitar."_

"You know, that doesn't surprise me at all," Lucky smirked.

"I was new, so it did surprise me a bit," Jason admitted.

"_I'm glad I could be so helpful."_

_Elizabeth smiled at the confused look on her friend's face and batted her eyelashes sweetly. "You were. Thank you."_

_Jason was smirking at her then, and her playfulness increased. _

"_OK, you can think it's funny if you want, but you did help," she insisted. "I didn't know what I wanted until there was a chance that I might have to do something else. So thank you."_

"_Wait, wait," Jason sputtered as she backed away from him, still grinning. "What about my quarter?"_

_Elizabeth's grin grew wider. "This?" she teased, waving the quarter in front of his face. "This isn't a quarter. It's a good luck charm – and I'm keeping it."_

"So to this day, you're out a quarter thanks to her," Lucky laughed.

Jason shrugged. "It's okay. She's worth more than a quarter to me."

The statement had a sobering effect on both men as soon as it left Jason's mouth. The mobster stared at himself in the mirror as Lucky had done earlier, and reached for the faucet. Lucky studied him he washed his face with cold water, trying to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

"Look, Jason…" His voice was hesitant and Jason glanced up at him as he turned off the water and reached for another paper towel. "You probably know more about all this than I do, so…honestly, what do you think her chances are?"

Jason stilled at the question. His hands gripped the edge of the sink and he stared at the silver faucet, choosing to remain eerily silent. Lucky fidgeted uncomfortably, still awaiting a response, and was about to give up hope as the minutes dragged on until Jason finally spoke.

His voice was a whisper and Lucky had to strain to hear him. "She can't wake up brain damaged."

Lucky's eyes widened. "Is that…seriously likely?"

Jason turned his head slowly to meet the younger man's gaze. "The doctors say that there was brain damage upon impact, but they're not sure to what extent."

"So, it could just be amnesia, right?"

Jason swallowed. "I don't know – maybe that's being too optimistic. Shitpot Mulrow said that the worse-case scenario would be her waking up with absolutely no memory of her life, and even more extensive damage on top of that."

"Like…like what happened to you?"

Jason didn't answer, and Lucky wasn't even sure the mobster had heard him. He just remained silent, his head bent down and his eyes clenched shut.

"She can't wake up like me. She _can't._" His voice was raw and Lucky didn't know what to say. "She can't go through all that – Damn it, she doesn't deserve it!"

The younger man remained silent and as the minutes ticked by, Jason slowly regained composure. He stood up straight and tossed away the tightly wadded paper towel he had been holding in his clenched fist.

Lucky gulped when he saw the look on his face – the cold, stern mask was back. Without a word, he followed the enforcer as he pushed the bathroom door open and led the way to the stairwell.

The walk back to Emily's room was stonily silent. Jason didn't look anywhere but straight ahead, and Lucky shuffled a pace behind him, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

Jason pushed the wooden door open and stepped into the room with Lucky right behind him, immediately noticed that the number of people in the hospital room had significantly decreased.

Emily's eyes leapt to him as soon as he entered, and Jason didn't like the anxiety he saw written on her face. Only Zander, Skye, Reginald, and his grandparents remained in the room.

"Where are Alan and Monica?" he asked immediately, stepping further into the room to allow Lucky in.

"They – they went out," Emily tried to explain, and Jason frowned when he saw Zander swallow her trembling hands in his own. "E-Elizabeth."

"What about Elizabeth?" Lucky demanded immediately. "Oh, God, what happened?"

Emily bit her lip and her grandmother took the opportunity to step in.

"They were paged a few minutes ago," she informed the boys in the calmest voice she could manage. Edward held her hand in his own, and Jason could see that his grandmother's fingers were trembling as well, and not from age. "It seems as if Elizabeth is showing signs of waking up."


	13. 13

**Chapter 13**

"It seems as if Elizabeth is showing signs of waking up."

Lucky's knees buckled and he instantly sank into a nearby plastic chair, his hands gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Skye was already seated in the chair next to him and the redhead hesitantly reached a hand over and squeezed Lucky's shoulder.

Reginald was watching Jason very carefully for the first sign of the older man's reaction to the news. They had been waiting for it ever since they first got news that Elizabeth had been hit. The two women were all that the inhabitants of Room 124 had prayed for during the last few days. Emily was already back; now it was Elizabeth's turn.

But Jason remained standing tall in place, refusing to collapse from the weight of the news as Lucky had. Instead, he placed one hand on the wall behind him and slowly lent against it, his head bowed.

Reginald wasn't too surprised at Jason's refusal to carry on with the hysterics as his younger counterparts had. After all, according to the enforcer's own standards, he had shown enough already. And that wasn't something he did – emotion implied weakness, and Jason couldn't afford to be thought of as weak.

And yet he had. He had broken down in Edward's arms, something that Reginald had expected to happen only when polar bears had snowball fights in Hell. He had cried later in that same room when AJ had told Emily the news about Elizabeth. And that wasn't behavior that came naturally to the hardened enforcer. Reginald knew it had nothing to do with the fact that Jason was weak and everything to do with how much he cared for the girl.

Jason's soft sigh echoed around the room, and his voice when he spoke was strained. "And now we wait."

* * *

"_Mr. Quartermaine, I have some business to discuss with you. You may know me as Lorenzo Alcazar."_

AJ's dark brown eyes widened at the name. Lorenzo Alcazar? _The_ Lorenzo Alcazar? Drug-Lord-cum-Psycho-Luis' brother, Lorenzo? Holy shit. What did an arms dealer like the Spaniard want with him?

"I don't see how we-"

"_Mr. Quartermaine, I advise you to listen fully and carefully to my proposal before you make any…rash decisions. Does this seem suitable?"_

There it was – that voice. The silky, smooth, charming voice that would be calling for his head on a platter if AJ didn't do exactly what he said. He had heard of Mr. Lorenzo Alcazar before, had heard of the mob boss' long list of illegal activities. Somehow, he didn't think that offing a wealthy black sheep would be too much of a moral dilemma for the mobster.

"I'm listening."

"_You, Mr. Quartermaine, are indirectly in possession of something that I want. Do you know that which I am referring to?"_

"Mr. Alcazar, I don't have-"

"_Ah, Mr. Quartermaine, you didn't listen. Simple answers will do. Now, you and your family have something that I have been coveting since I first set sights on Port Charles. Do you know what commodity you possess that I desire?"_

"No."

"_It is true, is it not, that your family owns property on the waterfront?"_

AJ swallowed. Alcazar already knew the answer to that. "Yes."

"_This property lies a short distance from Pier 52 near the old shipping yard."_

"Yes."

"_Mr. Quartermaine, I have had my eye on that piece of property for a while now. I have decided that the time has come for me to relieve you of it."_

"My family would never-"

"_I am not concerned with your family, Mr. Quartermaine. I am concerned only with you."_

"What makes you think I would help you?" AJ fought to keep his voice from shaking as he answered back to the mobster for the first time during the unexpected and rather frightening conversation. "I know what you do for a living, Mr. Alcazar, and I have no intention of getting involved-"

The Spaniard's mood swing was apparent in the lethal tone his voice now adopted. _"Ah, but you are involved, Mr. Quartermaine. Far deeper than you know. You see, you have something that I want. And I have some information that you want hidden."_

AJ's heart skipped a beat as he froze in his seat, almost failing to slam on the brake when the car in front of him slowed down. Cursing, he flicked on his turn signal and pulled onto the shoulder, stopping the car and throwing it in park before slowly replying back. "What do you have?"

Alcazar laughed. _"Yes, that got your attention, didn't it?"_

It wasn't possible – he couldn't know. No one knew. No one except him and Courtney. She had escaped and he had stowed the car away in one of ELQ's abandoned warehouses. There was no trace of it otherwise – how the hell could anyone else know?

"You don't have anything."

"_Don't I?"_

"No. You're bluffing."

"_Careful, Mr. Quartermaine. What did I tell you about making rash decisions?"_

AJ hesitated, watching the other cars on the road whip by him. He wished he was in one of those instead of his. He wished he was going where any of those other people were, instead of stuck here on the phone with a mobster.

"I don't think you have anything."

"_Of course I don't. I don't know anything, Mr. Quartermaine. I don't know that your sister is in the hospital, and that her friend joined her there this morning. I don't know that her friend, one by the name of…Elizabeth Webber was in a car accident. Hit and run – but then again, I don't know that. I also am oblivious to the fact that you were the first person on the scene and not ten minutes later, a Mercedes Benz sedan with a heavily dented front bumper pulled into the gas station on Roosevelt."_

"Stop."

"_Convinced of my ignorance, Mr. Quartermaine?"_

"What do you want from me?"

"_I already told you – I want the waterfront."_

"I can't give that to you." AJ's voice was desperate as he pleaded with the mobster to understand his position. "It's owned by the family – they'd know."

"_I'm sure you'll think of something, Mr. Quartermaine," _the smooth voice on the other end of the line assured him. _"I'm sure you'll come up with a creative solution. Because if not, then I'm the one who will have to get creative. Now, if one were to tell a hitman that his estranged brother allowed the woman who nearly killed his old friend to escape, how do you think one would go about it? Should I send a card? A personalized telegram? Hire a skywriter? Or maybe I should just retrieve the car from the warehouse where you stashed it, disassemble it, and then have my men reassemble it in Mr. Morgan's living room. That's always a hit."_

"OK, OK," AJ cut in, his head swimming with the recent developments. God damn. This couldn't be happening. How the hell did he get in so deep with this? "I'll do what I can."

"_See that you do, Mr. Quartermaine. I'll be in touch."_

The Spaniard hung up and a deafening dial tone was the only sound in the silent car as AJ slumped over the wheel, wondering how the hell he had gotten himself into this mess and how the hell he was going to get himself out.

* * *

John Mulrow stared at the charts in his hand. The patient was waking up, slowly but surely, and that meant extensive testing awaited them both. Elizabeth Webber's body and mind alike had suffered a great ordeal in the recent accident, and it was his job to figure out just what happened and what to do to help her. The Drs. Quartermaine were pacing around outside the room, and John didn't blame them. He understood what the two of them must have been going through and did his best to keep them from getting involved.

Elizabeth's lashes fluttered. Her other vitals had improved steadily; now the only thing left for her to do was open her eyes and open her mouth and show him just what she could do. John waited with baited breath as her brows furrowed and her lips twisted into a frown.

And then her eyes opened.

The nurse next to him tensed, unsure of how Elizabeth would react to waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. John shared her thoughts and the two of them drew back slightly and adopted a less threatening stance as the young woman blinked and tried to look around the room.

"W-W-"

John's heart leaped to his throat – she was talking. His fingers clenched around the clipboard in his hand as he rooted her on, cheered for her to ask the first of undoubtedly many questions.

"Where…am I?"

Her words were slow and slightly slow, but John had no way of telling if that was a direct effect of the repercussions of her accident. They'd know for sure as soon as they got her into testing. But first, the hard part – they had to talk to her.

"You're at the hospital." He did his best to keep his voice warm and friendly, and not threatening or imposing in the least. Two deep blue eyes flew to meet his, and he wasn't surprised when the younger woman cringed as much as her weakened body would allow her to.

"W-Who are y-you?"

He forced himself to loosen his grip on the clipboard and let it hang loosely from his fingers. There was no need for her to see his tension. "My name is John Mulrow, and I'm a doctor."

Her brows furrowed and she peered back at him suspiciously from two deep sapphire orbs. She looked as if she were trying to form a word, but just then the door slowly opened and Monica hesitantly stuck her head in.

The joy in the doctor's eyes was unmistakable when she saw that the pale young woman in the hospital bed was awake. She immediately looked up at John, a wide grin on her face, and dragged Alan into the room. Despite their hasty entrance, their steps slowed as soon as they set foot in the room. Both of them moved slowly, almost shyly, as they approached her, taking great care not to scare her.

Elizabeth darted a glance at John before frowning again. John watched her body shrink back, and it was almost as if she were trying to burrow as far back into the bed as she could.

"And w-who are you?"

Alan and Monica looked at each other and then at Elizabeth, and the light in their eyes dimmed slightly when they realized that she was referring to them. Even though they had prepared themselves for this, John could still see the sadness on their faces.

Elizabeth, however, was growing uneasy from the lack of answers and looked up at him again. "Who a-are they?"

He let out a slow breath, his gaze meeting Monica's steadily as he spoke. "They're Alan and Monica Quartermaine. They're doctors, too."

Elizabeth digested the information slowly, her dark eyes darting from Alan to his wife. "Oh."

A heavy silence descended upon the room, and John shuffled his feet nervously. Alan and Monica looked at each other again, unsure of what to say but certain that they should try to say _something_. After all, Elizabeth had just woken up after a terrible accident. It was simply no good to just stand there and stare at her as if she were some sort of alien. But their frantic quest to find something – anything – to say was ended when Elizabeth spoke.

"W-Who am _I_?"

* * *

Courtney Matthews was enjoying a nice, hot bubble bath and watching a rerun of _Melrose Place_ when the telephone rang. Sighing, she reached one soapy arm out of the tub and scrounged around on the floor, searching for the cordless phone. Finally finding it, she clicked it on and held it to her ear.

"Hell-o?"

"_Court."_

A frown distorted the blonde's thin lips. "AJ? What do you want?"

"_We have to talk."_

She sighed with the weight of the world and sank down in the tub until the water had settled above her wide shoulders. "I can't talk right now – I'm really busy. I have to go."

"_Yeah, I don't buy that for a minute. We have to talk."_

Courtney huffed angrily into the phone. "Fine. But Jason's going to be really pissed when he finds out that you called. He and Sonny check the phone records, you know."

"_Let me deal with my brother. Don't worry about that."_

The blonde frowned. AJ never referred to Jason as _my brother_. It was always _Jason_, or _the hitman_, or _the golden boy_ or any other similar derogatory title. Never _my brother_. "What do you want?"

"_Someone knows."_

"Knows what?"

"_About what you – what we – did."_

Courtney's eyes nearly bugged out of her head and the blonde sat up straight in the tub, all thoughts of _Melrose Place_ gone. "What?"

"_Someone knows."_

"Oh, my God."

There was a long pause and AJ let Courtney absorb the information. But soon enough, she was back on the line and screeching in his ear.

"You idiot! How could you let that happen! Oh, son of a bitch-"

"_Woah, woah, woah. You're getting mad at me? Listen, you little whore, you're the one that drove into her while you were high as a kite – don't go blaming me for anything."_

"Oh, I should have known you'd screw this up!" she railed on. "You screwed up _everything_ you were ever given! Why should this be any different?"

"_Why don't I just call the guy's bluff and let him tell Jason what you did to Elizabeth?"_

That shut his ex-wife up and forced her to reevaluate her attitude. It was a few minutes before Courtney had regained her composure enough to carry on a civilized conversation with her former husband.

"Fine. How much do they know?"

"_From what I got, everything."_

"Everything?"

"_Everything."_

"Do they know I was…wasn't feeling well?"

AJ snorted. _"If that's what you want to call it. I have no idea – but what they do know is bad enough." _What AJ didn't realize was that one of Alcazar's men had been in the same gas station as she had earlier, and after listening to her erratic mood swings and slightly slurred words, he had put two and two together and had figured out that Courtney was indeed intoxicated. Though the mob boss didn't exactly know what Courtney was intoxicated from, that information wasn't hard to obtain.

"Who knows, AJ? Who are we dealing with here?"

"_Lorenzo Alcazar."_

"Shit."

"_Yeah."_

"Holy shit."

"_Yeah."_

"What does he want?"

"_The Quartermaines' waterfront property."_

"Give it to him."

"_What? Courtney, it's not that easy-"_

"I don't care – give it to him. Then he'll leave us alone. I don't care what you have to do, just do it. I don't want him bothering me anymore."

AJ rolled his eyes at her stupidity. _"You do realize, you little twit, that it's not going to stop there, right?"_

"What?" she asked, desperation and panic apparent in her chuckle. "What do you mean? Of course it is. He's going to get what he wants and we'll be in the clear."

"_Courtney? You know that space between your ears? There's something in there. Use it." _AJ shook his head and leaned back in the drivers' seat. Everyone would probably be wondering where he was, but he didn't give a damn right now. He had more important things to worry about than a couple of soggy sandwiches. _"Lorenzo Alcazar knows you were the one that did it. And he's trying to bring Sonny down. Do you really think that he's going to stop with the waterfront? That's just the beginning, Stripperella. He's going to come to you next, and you'll have to do whatever he says."_

"We'll-We'll call the cops!" Courtney knew it was a stupid suggestion before the words even left her mouth.

"_You're high again, aren't you?"_

"Look, there's a chance that he'll leave us alone after he gets the waterfront, right?"

"_What I can't figure out is why he'd want it – ELQ doesn't even use it."_

"Who cares? He wants it, he'll get it. And then maybe, just maybe, he will let us off the hook. What did you do with the car?"

"_I had it locked up in an old ELQ warehouse."_

"Get rid of it."

"_What?"_

"You heard me, get rid of it. Without the car, there's no evidence."

AJ shook his head again at her sheer ignorance. _"No good, dipstick. They already know where the car is, meaning that I can't get to it and destroy it."_

Courtney smoothed a hand over her golden hair and leaned forward, hugging her knees. She wanted to cry. "Just give him whatever he wants, AJ. Please. Jason will hate me if he ever finds out."

"_Well, look at it this way – he couldn't hate you more than I did when I found out you fucked my brother in our bed while we were married. So what are you worried about?"_

Courtney scowled into the phone. "I'm hanging up, AJ."

"_You're not going to hang up on me and we both know it. So cut the act already, because you don't fool me anymore."_

"Please, AJ, give him whatever he's asking for."

"_This isn't going to go away, Courtney. I think we should tell everyone what really happened."_

"NO!" Her shrill yell echoed through the bathroom. "No, we can't do that! I'll be arrested for driving under the influence!"

"_So? Where's the bad?"_

Courtney wanted to hurl the phone into the wall and watch it shatter into a million itty bitty pieces. "Sonny and Jason are going to _kill_ me."

"_Again, I ask, where's the bad?"_

She scoffed into the phone. This was so like him. "Do you think I'm the only one that's going to go down, AJ? You'll be lucky if Jason lets you live. At least I know Jason wouldn't ever use violence against me; you, on the other hand, are a different case. He _loves_ me – he's stuck with you. And you can kiss any prayer of every getting even partial custody of Michael back if you take this to the cops."

Damn. For all her moronic arguments, she had a point. He would burn for this just as badly as she would.

"Give him whatever he wants, AJ. And don't call me here again. Use my cell."

Without saying goodbye, she clicked the phone off and left AJ with the dial tone. He let the cell slip from his hand and clatter against the wooden dash panel in his car. The sharp noise echoed through the cramped compartment, just like the migraine that was now pulsing through AJ's head.

She was right. He had no choice.

He had to go along with whatever Alcazar's demands were, and number one on that list was the waterfront property. He had to deliver. But more importantly, he was now forced by something other than his own will to keep the truth about Elizabeth's accident to himself.

Every which way he looked about it, he was fucked.


	14. 14

**Chapter 14**

Two hours had passed since Lucky and Jason had returned from the restroom to find that Alan and Monica had run off to Elizabeth's side. AJ had returned ten minutes ago with the food he had promised and as the rest of the family ate in Emily's room, the young man sat by himself in the corner, blankly staring at the wall. Skye had tried to coax him into eating but AJ had refused her ministrations and denied himself any sort of refreshment. He didn't even mind when Jason broke down and decided to eat after all, taking the sandwich that AJ had prepared for himself. Nothing seemed to get a rise out of him, no matter how much his sisters and the others tried to get him to respond. Instead, AJ just sat there mutely, blindly staring ahead but seeing nothing before him.

Alan and Monica had not returned to their daughter's room since the time they had been forced to leave it. And so the entire company sat, the anticipation proving frustrating to no end. At one point, Edward stormed out to get some answers but had come back empty-handed. Tempers were short and the comparatively good moods of before had vanished. The conversations was terse, bitter and curt, every word snarled with disdain. Lila was the one to do her best to keep the group together, reminding them that their tempers had no place in the situation they now found themselves in.

Outside, things were better. Much better. In fact, Dr. John Mulrow was downright ecstatic over the results of the tests that he now held in his hands. Alan and Monica, though still deeply grieved from the shock of Elizabeth not remembering them, were encouraged as well and hurried off to tell their family the good news. After some persuasion, they managed to drag John off with them after promising to protect him from their son, and the threesome quickly made their way to Room 124.

Jason was the first to look up when the door opened, and the quiet gripes that peppered the air in the room instantly vanished the second the three doctors stepped into the room. Their appearance, which so often served to intimidate and sadden, gave away nothing of their discovery.

Edward glanced from his son to his daughter-in-law and finally unable to take any more, blurted out, "Well? Don't keep us in a lurch – get on with it! What's the news?"

Lila's hand fell on his, her soft fingers squeezing his gently as she, too, waited for an answer. Alan and Monica glanced at each other before looking to John to break the news. Jason's lips curved into a grimace when the young doctor stepped forward, holding his clip pad before him like some sort of child's security blanket.

"Elizabeth came out of the coma two hours and four minutes ago," he started out explaining in a calm voice. The room was silent, the inhabitants not even daring to breathe as the young man spoke. Luke, Reginald, Lucky and Nikolas were standing against the far wall and strained to catch each word, afraid that they would miss something. Skye, Ned, and Jason sat together near Edward and Lila, who remained near Emily's bedside. Zander was perched on the bed next to his girlfriend, his feet swinging a few inches from the floor, and AJ remained stock-still as he had been for the last fifteen minutes. Still, his ears were craned to pick up Dr. Mulrow's every word.

"It took her a while to come out of it altogether, but when she did, it soon became evident that the sectors of her brain responsible for speech were not damaged," John continued. "She was able to speak clearly and legibly, and after running extensive tests, it became apparent that her motor coordination is not impaired. I hold in my hand the x-rays we were able to take, and they prove very encouraging."

He stepped forward one step further, darting a wary glance at Jason as he did so. But the mobster remained still in his seat, not moving a muscle. His eyes were the only part of him that moved, smoldering and dark as they followed John's every movement. The doctor lay the x-ray slides on the pale sheets of the bed and waited as everyone gathered around to take a look. It was easier this way rather than holding them up and alternating back and forth every so often.

"As you can see, one portion of the brain in particular appears damaged," John explained, outlining that area on the x-ray. Jason was thankful that at least his accident hadn't disabled his ability to understand what was in front of him now. Though he couldn't see paintings very well, he didn't have much of a problem discerning photographs. After all, he was frequently checking surveillance photos on the job anyway, and x-rays were very similar.

"This was why we feared she may have suffered permanent damage," the young doctor continued in a soft voice. "Unfortunately, we had no way of knowing until she came to and showed activity in that area." He looked up at the group, his green eyes shining with a pleased look. "However, after running the tests, we have reason to believe that this is not the case."

Luke was the first to expel a breath of the relief as the rest of them waited for John to continue his explanation. "Though the area has sustained damage, it is by no means permanently debilitating. Elizabeth has selective amnesia."

"**_Selective_** amnesia?" Emily parroted, leaning forward in her bed. "You mean – you mean there's a chance that-"

"That it's temporary?" Lucky finished eagerly. His blue eyes darted to Alan and Monica when they shifted their weight. Lila had noticed too, and was frowning.

"What is it, dear?"

Alan fingered his collar, glancing nervously at his wife. "Well, we should probably say something here-"

"We were in Elizabeth's room when she first woke up," Monica spoke, her voice level and clear. Jason straightened abruptly in his chair, an action not missed by his parents. "It took her a minute to speak, but when she did, she asked who we were."

Zander's mouth fell agape on a question that never came. Emily had to press her own lips together to keep her composure, and the stony mask had descended over Jason's face once more. AJ was still sitting ramrod-straight in his chair in the corner, but had now covered his face with his hands.

"Then she asked who _**she** _was."

Jason slumped back in his chair and Monica did her best not to look in his direction for fear that she'd lose her composure as well.

"Her amnesia is definitely real," she continued. "Selective amnesia is a tricky sort – we know the least about it. But what we know here is that she is not permanently brain damaged."

Lucky's eyes drifted to Jason's and held his gaze. The two men remained staring at each other as Monica and John stood between them. Jason was the first to break the contact when his lashes fluttered and his eyes closed.

"She may remember completely," John interjected, taking over for a grateful Monica. "She may remember most of everything. But there's still a chance that she won't remember anything. The only thing to be done is to wait and see what happens. Her memory may perhaps be stimulated by cues from her past; it remains to be seen if this helps her in her recollection."

"How-" Luke had trouble getting rid of the frog in his throat. "How is she now?"

"She's sleeping," Alan replied softly. "We did our best to keep her calm through the whole process, but she became very agitated in the beginning when she didn't know who we were and who she was."

"What did you say?"

Jason's voice, though only a whisper, sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. Monica met his gaze directly for the first time during the conversation, and although Jason could see the relief present in her pale blue eyes, he didn't like the sadness and gloom.

"We told her we were her doctors," Alan spoke up quietly. "It seemed best to leave it at that for the time being. She had enough to deal with and didn't need the added stress of trying to remember us when she couldn't even remember herself. There'll be time in the future to tell her when she's not as…scared."

The thought of Elizabeth waking up alone and scared in a hospital room made something deep inside Jason hurt. It felt like something within him had shattered, like an iron fist had closed around his heart and made it difficult for him to breathe. He, more than anyone in the room or any neurosurgeon in any hospital, knew what that was like. **_He_** was the one that had gone through the whole ordeal many years ago; he certainly didn't need any _**John Mulrow, Ph.D.** _standing in front of him and explaining the whole damn thing to him in Mickey Mouse terms.

But to his credit, John remained quiet. He had heard of Jason's accident when he was in medical school, and as he worked closely with the Quartermaines and got to know them, he saw the far reaching affects of the accident. Monica and Alan still carried the pain of losing a son and gaining one that didn't want anything to do with them. And he hoped for Jason's sake and the sake of everyone else in the room that Elizabeth didn't turn out that way. Her chances for a full and total recovery were infinitely better than Jason Morgan Quartermaine's had been – in fact, comparing the two was like comparing apples and oranges. Jason's accident had caused permanent and irreversible brain damage; Elizabeth, in ideal conditions, would soon regain hers completely.

"She asked us who she was," Monica spoke up quietly, moving the x-rays aside and wearily sitting down on her daughter's bed. Zander moved aside instantly to give her as much room as he could; it looked like it took everything in her not to collapse down in utter weariness. "That was the hardest part."

Jason closed his eyes, unmindful of how all the eyes in the room unconsciously turned to him. Even Zander found himself staring at the enforcer before he lowered his gaze, embarrassed. After all, he didn't even know Jason before the accident. Everyone else in the room did. Luke's eyes were trained stoically on the young man sitting slumped over in the uncomfortable plastic chair. Yeah, he remembered Jason Quartermaine. And although his opinion wasn't a widely-held one, he liked Jason Morgan much better. He had known him during his old alliance with Sonny Corinthos, and he liked what he saw. Jason had come a long way from the preppy Doogie-Howser-wannabe that he used to be; he was a strong, smart kid with a lot of potential and he lived up to it under Corinthos. Those that were so busy wailing over the death of Jason Quartermaine didn't notice what had taken the future doctor's place – a cool, calm, fiercely determined young man with a good head for business. Luke didn't know how Jason felt about the accident – did he sometimes see the look in his mother's eyes and wish to himself that things were different? Maybe, but that didn't really matter. Because what Luke _did_ know was that Jason was thinking back to the accident right now – only this time, it was Elizabeth instead of him that was waking up in a strange world full of expectant, nameless people with a hell of a lot of hopes and dreams.

Lucky shifted uncomfortably next to his father. Never in a million years had he imagined that Elizabeth would find herself in the same situation as Jason. It was no secret that he wasn't Jason Morgan's biggest fan; in fact, he knew there was a time not too long ago that he had hated the man with everything he had. He had accused him of stealing Elizabeth from him on more than one occasion; had picked a fight with him more times than he could count. He had called him a brain damaged goon with no mind of his own. And now Elizabeth was in the same spot.

The only difference was that she had a chance, which was more than was said for Jason Quartermaine.

Thinking back, he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in time when his relationship with Jason had soured. He remembered working for the man when he owned a garage – that was where the fire was. He remembered when Jason first met Elizabeth. The man had come by the boxcar where he and Elizabeth were hanging out to give him his paycheck. Elizabeth had been very polite toward his boss, and Jason had reciprocated. They were years apart and had no other connections to each other. It was hard to imagine that those same two people later managed to fall in love.

Even though it still hurt him to think that Jason had given something to Elizabeth that she wasn't able to take from him, somewhere along the way, Lucky had accepted it. He had accepted that he had been pretty unreasonable in the days preceding what his father called Endgame – the last battle between the Spencers and the Cassidines. Elizabeth needed support, comfort, protection. And Jason had offered them to her without question. The truth of the matter wasn't that Jason had stolen her from him – it was that he had consciously lost her.

Lucky didn't profess to know the details of what happened between Elizabeth and the enforcer. One minute, they spent every waking moment together and she was living with him in that bullet-proof penthouse of his. The next, Elizabeth was back at Kelly's and Jason was sucking Sonny's sister's face. He had never asked Elizabeth what had gone down between them; maybe if he was a stronger man, he would have. But in all actuality, he had been happy. The thought of Jason Morgan being rejected by Elizabeth Webber brought a smile to his face, and yes, he was glad that she was finally away from him. IF he had been a stronger man, a better friend, he would have asked her. But he missed his chance. Still, from the look on Jason's face, he knew it didn't matter.

The realization managed to sneak up on him, but Lucky was soon staring it straight on. No matter what happened, Jason would be there for Elizabeth. Just like somehow, he knew she'd be there for him if he needed her.

Lucky didn't understand it; didn't understand what could bring two people back together after all the bad blood between them. He never understood why Jason and Elizabeth kept going back to each other. Elizabeth had told him a long time ago – after they had managed to mend the rift that resulted when they first broke up – that Jason had asked her to run away to Italy with him that day in the park. She had refused, and part of him still wondered if she resented him because he was the reason that she had to say no. Still, when Jason came back and checked in with Sonny, the first person he spoke to was Elizabeth. He rescued her from the crypt, he saved Zander for her several times afterwards even though they certainly weren't on the best of terms then. Something kept bringing them back together, some common bond that refused to be broken no matter the stress that was placed on it.

And now they had one more bond that held them together – they both had to deal with the aftermath of a terrible accident. Lucky wondered to himself how this whole thing would affect Jason. Would he still maintain his relationship with Elizabeth, after everything, or would he let it fade away into obscurity? He knew the two of them hadn't been on speaking terms for a long time. When Ric had been shot, Elizabeth had a few harsh words for Jason. Soon after that, the truth about the lawyer had been revealed and Ric had disappeared. Elizabeth didn't seem to care. She moved on with her life and took great care to avoid both Sonny and Jason, two people she had always felt comfortable with. And now this…

It would be easy for Jason to just drop it, Lucky mused. Elizabeth didn't remember him; there was no need to jump around in front of her face. If she remembered, the pieces would fall where they would. It would be easy for him to keep his distance and continue their cold shoulder routine. But he had to wonder if Jason **_ever_** did things the easy way.

The enforcer's eyes were on his mother now, but his mask was still in place. Monica picked at her nails, not wanting to make eye contact with any of her family members. John was shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, feeling somewhat guilty for being privy to what he deemed a private family moment.

"We didn't tell her anything much," Monica finally spoke, as if hearing Jason's unasked question. "We told her that her name was Elizabeth I-Imogene Webber." Her voice trembled and Emily watched Jason's mask slip. "And that she was 24 years old. She didn't ask anything else, and I was glad. I didn't want – I didn't think I could do it. I didn't think I could tell her."

Her eyes, wet and helpless, met Jason's. Monica's lower lip trembled when she saw that her son's eyes mirrored her own. He could always pretend to be the cold, detached man that the rest of the town saw, but she had yet to tell him that it had never worked on her. She could see straight through him, straight through the cool and indifferent interior to the honest-to-goodness man inside, the man that was angry, hurt, sad, afraid, and heartbroken all at the same time. She knew she was one of the few people that would always see that when she looked at him.

"She was quiet when we ran all the tests. When she was back in her room, she went straight to sleep. I don't blame her – I'd want to go to sleep after all that, too." A sweep of golden hair fell in her face, a curtain shielding her pale eyes, and Monica wearily brushed it away. "I didn't think it would be so hard," she admitted softly on a voice that broke on the last word. "But I was watching her sleep, and I remembered when…I remembered when there was that blizzard. Emmy, do you remember?" She turned expectantly to her daughter and saw from the confused look in her eyes that she did not share the memory.

"There was a blizzard. Elizabeth was over at the house and she and Emily had been listening to music up in her room for hours. She was going to head home after dinner but it was pitch black and coming down hard and Edward told her to wait." Edward nodded softly in memory as Lila closed her eyes. It didn't take much effort on the old woman's part to see the scene as Monica was describing it.

"We thought it would get better. It didn't. So we asked her to stay the night, and she and Emily sat in the living room until odd hours of the night playing poker." A small smile kicked up the corner of Luke's mouth. Reginald, too, was smirking – he had been the one that taught Elizabeth to play in the first place. "We came down in the morning and the two of them were asleep on the floor by the fire."

Monica's smile was watery as she stared at her hands. "It was just like that when I was watching her today. She looked so peaceful. So…young."

AJ rubbed his temples. Hard.

"She looked like she could get up at any moment and drag Emily off to Kelly's for some hot chocolate," Monica chuckled. It was a hollow sound. Emily looked at her father, then noticed that the spot next to him was empty: John had quietly excused himself and left. "That's what I want more than anything. I don't want her to wake up again in that cold, white room – I don't want her waking up afraid and alone and with no idea of what's going on."

Monica had started to cry and, unable to see his wife in tears, Alan had moved to her side and wrapped his arms around her. "I don't want to see that again," she sobbed into her husband's broad shoulder. "I can't- I can't go through that again."

That was all Jason could take. The words had no sooner left his mother's mouth than Jason was on his feet and stumbling toward the door. He had it open in no time flat and soon found himself in the hallway. The lights were bright and the air conditioning was humming as Jason sucked in a cool breath. It was too much – too soon, too fast. A dozen thoughts tumbled through his head, each fighting to be at the forefront of his consciousness.

Stumbling under the barrage of thoughts, Jason made his way down the corridor. Johnny emerged from the bathroom, running his hand through his wild brown spikes, and at the first glance of his boss, one question formed on his lips and in his eyes. But Jason didn't have the answers to that question, so he quickly bypassed the bodyguard and ambled down the corridors that suddenly seemed smaller and darker.

Francis emerged from the nearby lounge with two cups of coffee and looked up as Johnny blew past, following his boss. Not one to stand idly by, Francis assumed the chase as well, still holding two cups of scalding brown liquid.

Jason nearly collided with an orderly but that didn't slow down his pace. The lights dimmed and his head swam as he did his best to put one foot in front of the other. A wooden door at the end of the hall was his beacon of light, the finish line. If he could make it there, he'd be okay. He'd be able to sit and get away from the choking heartbreak in that hospital room.

Johnny realized where his boss was headed and slowed to a stop. Hearing Francis picking up the pace behind him, Johnny cast his friend a look that had the bodyguard slowing down as well. They knew one thing – something had happened with Elizabeth. And whenever something happened to Elizabeth, Jason always ran off. Usually to save her. But this time, that wasn't an option. So he had headed to the one place in the hospital that offered any semblance to a sanctuary – the chapel. This time, it was to save himself.

Jason Morgan wasn't a religious man. He never had been and Johnny knew him well enough to know that he never would be. His retreat to the chapel didn't suggest any sudden faith in the Mover to see him through this. That wasn't how Jason Morgan saw the world. He lived by his own way and saw little to be gained from a life of blind faith. No, his faith was in his own abilities and his own intellect. His intellect, his sixth sense, his mind had been his saving grace. And now, Jason Morgan just needed some time to himself to think. To find his own grace.


	15. 15

**Note: **I screwed up with the numbering last time, so this chapter is really chapter 15 and the last was fourteen. That being said, I have reworked this entire story for the third time and am very satisfied with how it turned out. I'm finally going somewhere folks, and I humbly thank those of you that are still along for the ride. My goal is to finish this story (and others) before September, which is when I start school again. I hope you guys enjoy this update, and the many more to come. This story is going to be told – I've got my "mind set" on it. I have a feeling you're all going to like this chapter – that is, any of you folks that are still left after my many hiati.

**Chapter Fifteen**

He didn't know how long he sat in the chapel, just staring out blindly at the tiny blinking candles and seeing nothing. Elizabeth had woken up with no memory of who she was, of who _they_ were, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. His parents – who remained remarkably close to Elizabeth throughout his own tumultuous relationship with her – were devastated, as were her friends and the Spencer family. The Quartermaines had dealt with this before, but there was no telling if they would be able to do it again. The Spencers and Nikolas had faced this before, when Lucky came back from the dead and couldn't remember anything.

And his sister – she had dealt with this twice already. First it was him, waking up angry and confused in a sterilized hospital room. And now it was her best friend, the woman that was for all intents and purposes her sister. Having to deal with all that in conjunction with her own cancer…it was heartbreaking. For everyone.

The guards had crept in on him numerous times, each one reluctant to disturb him but feeling the need to check up on him. He appreciated their concern even if he didn't acknowledge it, but right now he just wanted to be alone.

"I'm going to go see her," Lucky announced bravely, standing up in the crowded hospital room and attracting the attention of all its inhabitants. "If she's awake, I mean."

Alan and Monica exchanged melancholy glances. "Lucky…" The blonde doctor tucked her hair behind her ear and studied her fingernails. "She won't remember who you are. It might aggravate her further."

"I can't just sit here," Lucky hissed, "knowing that she's in this hospital afraid and alone – I have to see her."

"I'm coming with you," Nikolas said gravely, slowly pushing himself up from his seat. "Come on, we'll go together."

Lucky nodded at him, grateful for the support, and the two brothers exited the room. The walk over to Elizabeth's room was silent, each one hoping that the little brunette was awake and receptive to visitors. It was utterly inconceivable for either man to imagine walking in that room only to find that their close friend had absolutely no idea who they were. They had known each other for years – they all knew each other better than they knew themselves – and it was just impossible for her not to recognize them.

Lucky's hand was sweating as he grasped the door handle. His eyes met his brother's and Nikolas nodded slowly, nervously, and the blonde pushed the door open quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible in case Elizabeth was awake.

A pale, frail figure lay in the hospital bed in the center of the large room. Elizabeth. She looked as if she were drowning in the monstrous bed under the sheets that almost matched her complexion. Her dark hair stood out in stark contrast from the white, white, deathly white that surrounded her, and Lucky could barely force a breath into himself as he watched her. Peering over his shoulder, Nikolas was just as affected by the sight. This couldn't be Elizabeth – it just _couldn't_. Their friend – their Elizabeth – was always so full of life, so full of love and laughter. Seeing her lying motionless in a sterilized hospital bed was something from the realm of the surreal.

"Come on," Nikolas urged him solemnly, and the two brothers slowly stepped into the room and let the door close softly behind them. They were a few paces away from the bed, fully intent on simply claiming the two uncomfortable plastic chairs and sitting with her while she slept, when the brunette turned her face and stared stoically at them.

For a moment, Lucky and Nikolas were entirely at a loss for words. Fortunately for them, Elizabeth wasn't.

"Who the heck are you two supposed to be?" she groused, pursing her lips at the stunned young men.

A light shone in Lucky's pale blue eyes and the blonde took two hesitant steps toward her. "Elizabeth…"

She rolled her eyes at his overjoyed whisper. "Yeah, that's who I'm told _I_ am – who the hell are you two?"

Nikolas stared hard at her, completely unable to believe what he was just hearing. "What? Liz-"

"Elizabeth," she corrected, raising one finger sternly at him. The young Prince's dark eyes darted to her bandaged wrist and the bruises on her pale and slender arm as she scowled at him. "Didn't you catch it the first time? Not Liz – _Elizabeth._"

The dark haired man swallowed roughly. "All right, _Elizabeth_. I-"

"How are you feeling?" Lucky interrupted in a hushed, almost reverent voice. "We thought we'd never see you again – it's so good to-"

"I'm doing peachy," she frowned. "Just fucking peachy. I've got enough drugs in me to keep Columbia in business for the next ten years, I'm covered in bandages, and I can't remember a goddamn thing. Now you tell me – isn't that just _fucking peachy_?"

Lucky stared at her in blatant surprise. "E-Elizabeth-"

"You never answered my question," the young woman bristled, getting more agitated now. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"L-Lucky," he choked out. "Lucky Spencer."

She snorted. "That's a messed up name. What's your _real_ name?"

"Lucas."

Elizabeth shrugged, sinking back down into the covers. "Lucas. Lucky. Whatever floats your boat, Cowboy."

Nikolas and Lucky's eyes twinkled with immediate excitement. "Say that again," the blonde urged her eagerly, drawing up closer to the bed.

She squirmed away from him, wincing with pain as she did so. "Say what?"

"That – what you just said!"

"Why?" the brunette asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "You have some sort of crazy fetish or something?"

"You called him Cowboy, Elizabeth," Nikolas pointed out excitedly. "Don't you see? Only his dad calls him that-"

"He's called me that since I was a kid," Lucky interrupted with a grin. "You used to make fun of me for it. See? I knew it! I knew you'd remember! Oh, Elizabeth, you remember!"

"I don't remember shit, asswipe," she yelled back, tugging the covers up to her chin. "And I don't-"

"Then why'd you say _Cowboy_?" Lucky inquired, his hands curling into fists at his side. "You-"

"I don't know!" she cried, her eyes blazing. "I just said Cowboy – what, you got a fucking monopoly on the word or something? It doesn't mean anything!"

"No!" he yelled back, unable to control himself as Nikolas scrubbed a hand over his face. "You're wrong, Elizabeth – you _do_ remember! And it's only a matter of time before you remember everything-"

"You don't listen very well, do you, Tiger?" she screamed back. "Don't tell me what I will and will not remember! I've been awake for two entire fucking days, coming in and out of it for forty-eight hours, and I don't remember shit! So don't tell me that I'll get all better – that I'll go back to being _the real Elizabeth_ soon. Not when I was just told by _several_ doctors that I suffered selective amnesia and may not ever remember! Don't you _dare_ tell me that I'll get better soon, you fucking shitpot!"

"Elizabeth-" Nikolas tried, easing forward in an attempt to ease the situation. "If-"

"And don't you try to get in on this moron's act!" she yelled at him, her hands clenched tightly into fists. "And you know what – get the hell out of my room! Go! Get out before I call security! I don't want you here!"

Lucky's blue eyes pleaded with her. "But Elizabeth-"

"Get out!" she shrieked, her face contorted with fury. "Get the hell out of here! Just leave me alone!"

Swallowing thickly and making no move to hide the tears in his eyes, Lucky slowly backed away, his hands held up slightly in the air. Nikolas quietly pulled the door open and cast a mournful glance at Elizabeth before the two of them disappeared, closing the door firmly as they did so.

* * *

"I wish I could see her," Emily sobbed quietly, blowing her nose on the tissue Zander offered her. "I just…I really want to see her."

Nikolas' eyes were red and swollen. "It won't do any good, Em. She won't remember you."

The little redhead stared daggers at him as Zander soothingly rubbed her arms. "Don't say that – _don't_. She will remember, Nikolas, she _will_."

"Don't tell _her_ that," the Prince sighed sadly. "She'll only get angry. I…I don't know. We…We tried. We tried to talk to her."

"But we only made her angry," Lucky added dejectedly, glancing at Monica. "You and Mr. Quartermaine were right."

The blonde doctor ducked her head. "I wish there was something we could do," she sighed tiredly. "Something we could give her, something we could say to her or do for her. But there's nothing that'll make this easier – not for her, not for us. We…We just have to wait it out. The thing with selective amnesia is that…"

"Yeah, Mom?" Emily's eyes were wide and trained on her mother. "What were you going to say?"

"I don't want to get anyone's hopes up," Monica sighed. "Most likely, she won't recover. I've seen the scans. But…there have been documented cases where memory was restored gradually, in bits and pieces."

"Gradually?" Zander parroted. "Really?"

She nodded once. "Yes. Patients were showing signs of recovering partial memory – a recent excursion with loved ones before the memory-erasing accident, a birthday or milestone, or something as simple as what they ordered for breakfast. Slowly, other memories returned."

"W-Were there any cases of full recovery?" Nikolas barely wanted to know the answer.

In the end, he shouldn't have worried because Monica was nodding emphatically. "In seventy percent of the cases of memory restoration documented, the patients made a full recovery."

"Wow," Lucky breathed, closing his eyes and turning his face toward the ceiling.

The doctor was nodding. "We can only pray that Elizabeth's so lucky. But we'll just have to wait and see. We'll have to wait and keep prompting her with memories to see if she's been able to recollect anything. And if she does…there may be a chance for full recovery."

Lucky was still staring up at the ceiling but with his eyes closed, and a single tear raced down from the corner of his eye. "She's got to. Because I don't think I could handle it if she didn't."

Nothing had quite horrified him in his entire life like the scene that had played out a couple hours ago. Elizabeth, seething with confused fury, blurting out that she didn't know him and didn't give a damn, kicking him out of the room. He knew that under the anger, she was confused and hurt and lonely, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to hold her in his arms like he used to and assure her that no matter what, she'd always have her friends to hold her up.

* * *

"She acted like I was some perverted old man," Luke sighed. "Normally, I'd applaud that sort of intuition, but…"

Bobbie nodded slowly, resting her cup of lukewarm coffee on her knee as she twined her fingers with those of her older brother's. "I know, Luke. It's so strange to see her like this."

"She's a daughter to me," he muttered softly. "Even though she and Cowboy didn't get hitched…I used to tell him that he could go live with the wolves for all I cared – but I was hangin' onto Elizabeth."

His sister laughed softly. "Yeah, she used to remind him of that as often as she could, I remember."

"Did I ever tell you she brought me brownies?"

There was a far-off gleam in his pale eyes, and Bobbie watched him wistfully as he tented his fingers and stared hard at the floor without even seeing it. "Really?"

He nodded slowly. "She showed up at the club in her little red coat and white mittens with a big plate of brownies just for me, and then she hugged me. I damn near cried in her arms, Barbara. That little girl…always so full of love. She loved everyone, whether it was good for her or not. She didn't give a damn. She had so much love to give and she'd be damned if she didn't share it."

Luke's lips twisted downward as he tried to suppress a sob and Bobbie wrapped her arms around him as he rested his head in his hands and choked on the tears. "And now she doesn't even have a clue who I am. I'd give anything to give her a hug right now – to make her feel as warm and loved and safe as I felt that day when she hugged me."

* * *

"_How's it going down there?"_

Johnny O'Brien braced one strong shoulder against the wall and frowned wearily into his telephone. "Not good, Boss. Not…good."

"_What's happening?"_

"Lucky and Nikolas saw her this morning."

"_And?"_

He could easily hear the anticipation and hope in Sonny's eager voice. "She had no clue who they were and worked herself into a tantrum. She kicked them out." His boss swore on the other end but Johnny wasn't done. "Luke went in a bit later."

"_What happened?"_

"Same thing. She kicked him out. She doesn't want to see anyone and the doctors seem to agree – it only makes her upset because she can't figure out who they are and she hates them for trying to remind her of stuff. No one knows what to do."

"_How are her injuries healing?"_

"The internal bleeding was taken care of pretty easily," Johnny replied with a sigh. There were at least a few things that had gone well. "She had a lot of cuts and scrapes, and everything was disinfected and bandaged up. She sprained her left wrist and didn't break anything else, thank God."

"_Now that's a miracle."_

"No shit." He shifted his stance when his shoulder began to hurt. "She should be healing up just fine. She's got stitches in her head – tons of them – but other than that, everything's looking good. Well, except, you know…"

Sonny didn't want to hear any more. _"Yeah, yeah, I know."_

There was a brief pause before the moblord spoke up again. _"Have you seen Jason?"_

"He's been camped out here for a while," the Irishman replied wearily. "I think he slept in the chapel last night."

"_Do me a favor – you and Max and Francis – just…look out for him, okay? Make sure he eats and doesn't shut down."_

"Will do, Boss."

"_Tell him if he asks that I don't need him for business right now – I can get Benny to take care of most of the stuff. He should take it easy, and I'll try to come down and see Elizabeth later today."_

"Not sure if that's a good idea," Johnny shrugged, "but, hey, you can try. If she doesn't have you kicked out on your ass."

"_I'll take my chances, John."_

"Anything else, Sir?"

"_Watch out for Elizabeth, too. I know Francis used to guard her and he seems to like her a lot-"_

"Francis has been making rounds outside her room for a while now," Johnny interrupted. "We switch off, just in case anything should happen. She's protected, Sir."

"_Thank you."_

"Sure, Boss."

There was a long pause before Sonny spoke again. _"Has…Has there been any talk about what she'll do after she gets out?"_

"I'm not sure, Sir," the guard replied truthfully. "I can only assume that the Quartermaines or the Spencers will want to take her in – hell, that Cassidine kid will probably clean out a whole wing for her at that castle of his. I just don't know how inclined she'll be to accept, especially given what I saw this morning."

The kingpin sighed into the phone._ "I was afraid of that. If she needs anything, John…let me know. I want her taken care of, and I'm sure Jason agrees. If she needs us, we'll get her a suitable home and make sure she's protected."_

"I'm sure they'll both appreciate that, Boss," Johnny nodded, thinking of the recovering brunette and his other employer. "I'll make sure she knows when the time comes."

"_Thank you, Johnny. You, Max, and Francis are relieved of all your other duties and I'm asking that you stay at the hospital for now. Just…look out for Jason and Elizabeth."_

"Not a problem, Boss."

* * *

Lulu Spencer sat pressed up between her two biggest brothers, a small Superball in her grubby hands as she looked from one man to the other.

"Lucky? Nik?"

"Yeah, Lu?"

"When can I see Elizabeth? Aunt Bobbie said she was here and that's why I came. How come I can't see her?"

Nikolas turned slightly in his seat, exchanging apprehensive glances with his younger brother as he tried to come up with a way to explain the situation to their little sister. Gently, he grasped her small, pale hands in his larger, tanner ones. "Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me, okay?"

The little girl nodded solemnly as the Prince tried to form his next sentence.

"Elizabeth…she's not doing so well."

Lulu's eyes widened. "Is she dying?"

The Prince shook his head immediately. "Oh, no, no, sweetheart, she's not dying."

"Then what's wrong with her?" Lulu asked, switching her pink Superball to the other hand and clasping her fist around it. "What happened?"

"Elizabeth can't remember very well right now," Lucky tried to explain in a soft voice as he gently tucked the six-year-old's dark hair behind her little ear. "She's got something called amnesia."

Lulu's dark brows furrowed in confusion. "Is she gonna get better?"

Nikolas and Lucky exchanged glances again before the Prince spoke. "The doctors don't know, kiddo. But we all hope so."

It was a lot of information for a child to take in all at once, and the brothers watched their youngest sibling grapple with it. "What doesn't she remember?"

Lucky closed his eyes briefly, trying to ward off the memory of his first venture into Elizabeth's room. "She doesn't remember who we are, Lu."

The little girl's eyes widened. "What? But – she has to!"

"She doesn't even know who _she_ is, sweetheart," Nikolas informed her gently. "She doesn't know where she is or who anyone here is. That's what happens when you get amnesia."

She was frowning, her dark eyes troubled. "Nothing? She don't remember nothing?"

"Nothing," Lucky replied with a sad shake of his head.

Lulu was still thinking and the little girl brought the pink Superball up to her lips, nibbling on it absently while she thought until Nikolas pulled her little hand away from her mouth. "So, if I went up to her and said, 'hi, Elizabeth', what would happen?"

"Well, it might take her a minute to remember that her name is Elizabeth," Lucky guessed. "And even when she did, she wouldn't know who you were."

"She wouldn't remember making a picture with me at Kelly's last week?" she asked with wide eyes showcasing a hint of tears. "What about the time we-"

"She wouldn't remember, sweetheart," Nikolas informed her softly, stroking her cheek with his long finger. "It's not her fault – she just doesn't remember."

The little girl sank back into her seat, looking crestfallen. "Just like Lucky."

Her big brother exchanged confused glances with Nikolas and then reached down to wrap an arm around her narrow shoulders. "What, Lu?"

"Just lie you," she answered, staring sorrowfully into his eyes. "You came back, and you didn't remember who me or Mommy or Daddy were. You didn't like us very much."

Lucky's heart nearly broke in two for the second time that day, and he quickly hugged his little sister tightly to his side as her first tears started to fall. "I came back to visit you, though, Lu – remember?" He should have known that this would be hard for her – she had dealt with it before when it was her own brother, and now it had happened to a woman who was for all intents and purposes her big sister. He should have known – but then again, he hadn't exactly been thinking clearly ever since Emily had been brought into General Hospital. "You were my special little friend – I'd sneak in to see you all the time. You helped me so much, Lu – you helped me remember again."

Her tears were lost in his cotton t-shirt, and the little girl snuffled lightly with her Superball still clenched in one small fist. "I h-hope Elizabeth has someone like that – someone who helps her remember."

* * *

He didn't know how he had managed to leave the little chapel where he had cloistered himself, but somehow, he found himself at her room.

The black numbers winked cruelly back at him under the harsh fluorescent lighting. Blinking his red and stinging eyes, Jason tried to control his breathing. She was behind this door, this flimsy piece of wood. She was waiting there, waiting for some semblance of reality, something that made sense, anything – she was waiting just like he had once been waiting.

He knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He had shut down from the minute he had seen her on the operating table, even going so far as to break down in his grandfather's arms. The old buzzard must have loved that.

With a sigh, Jason lifted his hand and pressed it to the rough wood. One good push and he'd be with her. She was calling out for him from behind the door – he never used to believe in foolish things like that, but he could actually _feel_ it. She was calling out for something that made sense, and he would give it to her. He would give her anything she needed.

He latched onto the handle and twisted it silently before pushing it open. His blood was roaring through his ears, his heart pounding painfully in his chest, and Jason almost forgot to breathe. The door swung open easily to reveal her delicate form on the hospital bed. He thought for a moment that she was asleep but the second he stepped into the room, his motorcycle boots creaking slightly, those vivid blue eyes snapped up and arrested his.

"Get out."

He winced at the sound of her voice, harsh and angry and bitter, conveying a brave façade he knew she was desperate to hang onto in this confusing spot. And yet he couldn't obey her terse command and instead stood rooted to the floor.

"Didn't you hear me?" She got out through clenched teeth, those intense sapphire eyes blazing with barely restrained anger. "I told you to leave. There's nothing for you here – your precious Elizabeth doesn't exist, pal. So just save us both some heartache and leave."

"I can't," he choked out, leaning against the threshold of the door and blinking rapidly when his vision clouded with tears.

She didn't like the way he was watching her. "Why not?"

He swallowed past his heart that had suddenly found new lodging in his throat. "Because…"

"Because what, buddy?" she scowled, growing more agitated as each second ticked by. "To tell me that I have to remember, that I have to be myself again? Because you're wasting your breath and my time. Why won't you just leave me alone?"

"Because I'm the only one that remembers being where you are," he got out, furiously holding the tears at bay.

That peaked her ire. "Nowhere?" she snorted sardonically. "You know what it's like to be absolutely _nowhere_?"

With that one simple word, the dam burst and a single tear raced down Jason's rough cheek. "Yeah," he whispered in a thick voice so filled with emotion that it took the edge out of Elizabeth's shoulders. "That's pretty much where I live."


	16. 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

He stood with his shoulder jammed against the door as Elizabeth stared at him, her brows furrowed suspiciously. Jason wasn't sure how long he stood there, but his heart began to thunder painfully in his chest when those blazing sapphire eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Please-" His voice was thick and slurred with tears, and Jason barely recognized it himself. "Please don't make me leave."

Those full, pink lips pursed into a thin red line as she continued to regard him stonily. "Why would you want to stay?"

He shifted, barely feeling when his shoulder began to ache, and crossed his legs at the ankle. "Because I don't want you to be alone. I don't want you to be…nowhere."

Jason could have sworn he saw a flicker of sadness race through those expressive blue eyes he knew so well, but then the stony mask dropped back in place. "It's a bit late for that." Still eyeing him suspiciously, Elizabeth allowed herself to ease back down onto the white hospital pillows piled judiciously at the head of the bed. "You can stay. Just don't talk to me."

Had he not been so overwhelmed by the situation, Jason would have smirked at that. But as it was, he just didn't have any humor left to spare. Somehow managing to ease forward, he closed the door softly before him and sank into another one of the grossly uncomfortable hospital chairs that he had occupied since he had learned about Emily.

"I'll stay as long as you let me."

She slid him a wary glance out of the corner of her eyes and shrugged indifferently. Jason could only sit and watch silently as her fingers fiddled with the edge of her blankets. Needles poked into the smooth alabaster skin, bruising it, but Elizabeth's hands still moved with graceful fortitude. She didn't pay any heed to the beeping monitors around her, nor the tubes and needles that poked into her flawless skin. She was lost in a myriad of thoughts, the oppressive haze of a new consciousness, and he had never felt so helpless than he did at that very moment. Sitting by silently, unable to help her. A motorcycle ride wouldn't fix this; neither would a boxing lesson on the bridge or a secret rendezvous at Vista Point. Tears pricked his eyes once more as Elizabeth began to slip off into a fitful slumber. Those things were the only things he had ever been able to offer her.

* * *

AJ's throat burned as he pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples. Somehow, everything had spiraled out of control, and there didn't seem to be any safe way out. He had gone into this impulsively – he had seen Courtney in an incriminating situation and immediately jumped at the tempting blackmail prospect. He had gone into this thinking he could be a winner, for once.

But he should have known better. The curse of the Black Sheep was far from over – and he would be far from a winner when the whole damn thing blew open.

Courtney had plowed straight into Elizabeth Webber in her car. Elizabeth had been in a coma and had recently awoken without any memories of her previous life. The irony was hardly lost on him.

First, the black sheep had done it to the golden boy. Now, the mobster's sister had done it to Port Charles' resident sweetheart.

Jason was going to kill him. If he had thought the whole meathook situation was bad, he didn't even know what the word meant. Jason would no doubt be _inhuman_ when he finally sought his revenge.

There was nowhere left to run. Courtney was useless. She was a simpering fool with the ability to see three minutes into the future – and that was being charitable.

The Quartermaines wouldn't be able to protect him from this – he wasn't even sure if they would want to. Not after how close they were to Elizabeth and how they had faced the same thing with Jason years ago.

Alcazar had the car. It had been recovered from the warehouse he had hidden it in and now the rival kingpin had it at his disposal. There was no way to trace it – he hadn't thought to bug the car and for all intents and purposes, it was gone.

If only it were gone for good.

But he knew that as soon as it was convenient for the mob lord, the car would surface. It would be a visible testimony to the plight of Elizabeth Webber, and there would be nowhere he could hide.

Courtney didn't matter anymore – she was an afterthought at best. The focus had rapidly shifted from getting his son back to saving his own skin. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that he'd make it out of this alive.

There was no telling what Lorenzo Alcazar had in store for all of them. He wanted the Quartermaine property, and if not, AJ didn't even want to think of what he would do. The Quartermaines were experts at blackmail, but he had a nagging feeling that the Alcazars weren't newborn babes in the woods, either.

AJ clenched his eyes shut and rubbed his hands over his face. There was only one person left, only one thing to do. As terrifying as it was, he had to tell Jason.

* * *

"He's still in there," Lucky growled as he paced up and down the hallway outside of Elizabeth's room, all consideration for the mobster he had recently almost befriended gone. "What's he doing in there?"

"The Macarena," Luke drawled humorlessly. He approached his son slowly, wearily, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let it be, Cowboy."

The young man spun around, his pale blue eyes blazing with disbelief and frustration. "Let it be? Are you kidding me, Dad? Let it be – so that she can fall under his thumb again? As if it wasn't bad enough the first time?"

"Luck-"

"No!" He pulled out of his father's grasp and glared darkly at him. He could see Nikolas scrub a hand over his jaw over the older Spencer's shoulder. "Sit back and do nothing so that Morgan can blind her with his lies again? Tell me this, Dad – how long before Corinthos moves in? They'll take her away from us completely and you want me to just let it be!"

Luke stepped up to his son, who was trembling with rage, and placed his hands softly on the boy's shoulder. "Cowboy, I'm asking you to let her have her space. She wouldn't have let Jason stay without having a good reason – a feeling."

Lucky swallowed roughly, glaring daggers through the closed blinds of Elizabeth's hospital room. She had thrown all of them – him, Nikolas, Luke, Monica, and Alan – out of her room earlier, but she let Morgan stay. His father was right – there had to be a good reason for it, a sense or intuition on her part. And that was what really scared him.

* * *

"I'm glad you're doing better, Emmy." Lulu Spencer sat perched at the foot of the youngest Quartermaine's hospital bed and was tossing her pink superball up in the air and catching it.

Emily, who sat propped up against a pile of pillows, smiled warmly at her best friend's little sister. Lulu had been a real blessing; she had been unable to think of anything but Elizabeth since the news came out, and the little girl had been keeping her mind occupied with endless chatter. "Thanks, sweetie."

"Hey, Emmy?"

"Yeah?"

Lulu's sober brown eyes met the older woman's. "Lucky and Nik said that…Elizabeth has what your big brother had."

Emily grimaced slightly, not appreciating the fact that her friends made what Jason and Elizabeth both 'had' sound more like an illness or contagious virus than anything else, but perhaps that was the only way they could get the little girl to understand. "Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, she does."

The little girl's chocolate orbs were trained on her pink superball. "Did your brother ever get better?"

The young woman smiled sadly, not missing the irony of the question. "It depends on what you mean by getting better."

"Huh?"

She shifted underneath the blankets, crossing her legs so that she could sit Indian-style, motioning the little girl to scoot closer. After being reassured that it wouldn't hurt her older friend, Lulu complied. "Jason…Jason wasn't too good after the accident."

"What kinda accident was it?"

Tears pricked her eyes but Emily kept them back. "The car he was in hit a tree."

"Oh."

She could see the comprehension in the little girl's eyes; she watched as Lulu pieced it together, that being hit by a car and hit by a tree could cause the same damage. "He woke up just like…just like Elizabeth, and he didn't know who he was."

Lulu lifted her timid gaze to hers. "What did you say to him?"

"When he woke up?" Her voice was thick and slurred as she remembered that frightening time. "I didn't know what to say."

The little girl sniffled, rolling her super ball between her hands. "I don't know what I'll say to Lizabeth, either."

Emily's lips twisted downward. "I wish I had some advice for you, sweetie, but I don't."

"I know." Lulu nodded with understanding beyond her years. "But…what happened with Jason?"

"He didn't remember us," Emily replied slowly. "He didn't remember…being Jason Quartermaine. He didn't remember going to medical school, he didn't remember working to be a doctor, he didn't remember his girlfriend. He didn't know any of us. And he was very angry with us."

"Why?"

Her shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "Because we wanted him to remember," Emily whispered. "We wanted him to remember so badly, and he couldn't. And he got mad at us for trying to force it on him."

Lulu's lower lip trembled. "I don't want Lizabeth to be angry at me."

Emily gently chucked the little girl under the chin. "I don't think you have to worry about that, sweetheart. But, when you see her…try not to talk about all the things she used to do, or what you two did together. She may still look like Elizabeth, but, honey, you've got to remember, she's not. She's another person, and she's scared, and even though it may sound like she's angry, she really needs a friend."

"Emmy?"

"What?"

"I'm scared. For Lizabeth."

"We all are," the young woman nodded slowly.

"You think she'll get better?"

"Well, it goes back to what I was telling you about Jason." She ran a trembling hand through her hair and tucked her bangs behind her ears. "He never became Jason Quartermaine again. He didn't finish medical school, he didn't become a doctor." Her eyes shined with tears as she watched Lulu's bottom lip quiver. "But he became Jason Morgan. He's healthy. He's happy. He has friends and a job and he likes what he does. He's alive and he's healthy, and even though he's not Jason Quartermaine, he's still my brother and he always will be."

Her throat ached with unshed tears but she refused to break down in front of the scared little girl. "Does that make any sense, sweetie?"

"What you're saying…" Lulu squeezed her little fingers around the super ball. "Is that even if she doesn't remember who she was…Lizabeth can still be happy."

"Oh, yes," Emily nodded emphatically. "Oh, definitely, Lulu. Nothing will ever stop her from being able to be happy."

"Good," the little girl got out quietly in a cracked voice. "Because that's what I want – I want her to be happy again."

* * *

"You're still here."

Jason blinked at the sound of her voice. "I told you I would stay."

"There's no need. You don't have to watch over me – I'm not glass, you know."

The enforcer dropped his head at those words. No, she wasn't glass – glass cracked. Glass broke. Glass wasn't nearly as strong as the young woman before him. "No, you're not."

She huffed under her breath and continued looking up at the ceiling. "Why are you really here?" The unspoken question she dared not ask: _why haven't I been able to tell you to leave?_

Jason let out a slow, controlled breath. "Because we're friends."

That got her attention. Elizabeth's eyes snapped to meet his, now blazing with suspicion. "We were?"

He nodded slowly, having been corrected. "Yeah – we were."

Elizabeth's blue eyes traveled over him, from the tips of his spiky hair to the toes of his scuffed motorcycle boots and he was almost certain he heard her scoff. "I bet."

His sandy brows furrowed. "What?"

"Just friends?"

"Huh?"

"We were just friends?"

He didn't know what to make of that question. No, they weren't friends – they were more than friends. But he couldn't very well tell her that. "Yeah."

The little brunette shrugged limply and continued staring at the ceiling. "Were we good friends?"

Jason swallowed roughly. "Yeah."

Her icy eyes lifted back to his and for the first time, Jason wondered if _that_ was what an enforcer stare looked like to the receiver. "This must be hard for you."

There was an almost sarcastic accusation in her voice, as if she realized that she had been right all along – he had only come so that he could try to get her to remember just like everyone else.

"I've been through it before."

"Yeah?" She was quirking a slender brow at him, and he could see her internally debating over whether she could believe him or not. "With who?"

The corner of his mouth hooked up but there was no humor to be found in his smirk. "Me."

Her eyes widened for a moment but the surprise was quickly covered with a mask of detachment. "You woke up without a fucking clue who you were?"

Jason could hear the skepticism in her voice. "Yeah," he replied simply. "I had my head rammed into a tree and woke up from a coma. I didn't remember my family or my life, and-"

"Hey, I didn't ask for your life story," she replied crossly, unable to bear hearing about the experience she was still unable to wrap her own head around. The idea that she had been someone – that she had a life, a family, friends, dreams, goals – before this point in time was inconceivable. A cruel joke. A painful riddle.

Jason clamped his mouth shut, understanding her need to keep everything at a distance. He had felt the same thing – the frantic, desperate urge to stay as far away from everything as humanly possible. No people. No conversations. No memories. Just him, alone in the void that was his mind, the abyss that had suddenly become his life.

Elizabeth remained staring at the ceiling for a long time, and the brunette didn't even acknowledge his presence. A nurse would come in periodically and Elizabeth wouldn't even look at her. Her eyes were half closed and would occasionally flutter open with a start, as if expecting to find different surroundings. Then reality would sink in and her fingers would fiddle with the blankets as she burrowed back into the bed.

Jason fidgeted in the chair, wondering if he should get something to occupy her mind. This was the most dangerous time – being alone with one's thoughts. The human mind was a powerful thing, but it was also the most dangerous enemy of one's sanity. If he let her sink into this state, she would only sink farther and farther away from them all.

Her eyes were darting from place to place on the ceiling when he leaned forward. "Eliza-"

She held up two fingers, silencing him, and resumed her intent study of the ceiling. He waited a minute before trying again. "Elizabeth?"

"What?"

"Can I get you something?" He leaned forward uncertainly. "If you want a-"

"I'm fine," she snapped irritably, pouting at the ceiling. "I'm counting dots on the ceiling."

The answer surprised him and Jason was sure for a moment that he had heard wrong. "What?"

"I'm counting dots."

Well, that was unexpected. "How many are there?"

"Uh, hold on…twelve thousand, nine hundred and thirty four – no, thirty six. Twelve thousand, nine hundred and thirty six."

His eyes damn near bugged out of his head. "You counted thirteen thousand dots?"

She scoffed at his question. "Don't be stupid. There are eighty-four dots on one tile, and this room is eleven by fourteen. Simple math."

Jason's eyebrows shot up, but he knew better than to say anything. Another long moment passed and every so often, Elizabeth would sigh fitfully and squirm in the bed. He understood her discomfort – the hospital was the last place he wanted to be, too. The silence stretched between them for so long that he was certain she was asleep – her chest was rising and falling in a slow and even rhythm, her features were relaxed, and her eyes were lightly closed.

But then the door quietly clicked open and he saw those blue orbs snap open immediately, coming to rest on his mother. Elizabeth blinked away the last remnants of sleep and watched the two doctors step into the room with a stoic look on her face.

"What?"

Alan and Monica smiled tightly despite her tense voice. "We came to speak to you, Elizabeth, about your-" Monica's blue eyes flickered in her son's direction and she immediately regretted the words that came out of her mouth next. "Jason, do you think you could step out?"

He nodded slowly with a pained look on his face. It took an almost Herculean effort but he made it to his feet, his intense eyes locked with Elizabeth's icy ones. With one last look at the brunette, Jason quietly slipped out of the room.

No sooner had he stepped into the brightly lit hallway than he was bombarded with questions. Nikolas, Lucky and Luke seemed to appear out of nowhere and practically assaulted him.

"How's she doing?" Lucky wanted to know, his eyes glittering with thinly-veiled irritation. "What did she say to you?"

Nikolas squared his jaw and rubbed his chin. "Lucky, I don't think-"

"Shut up," his brother tossed back before looking Jason in the eye firmly again. "What happened in there?"

Returning the lethal glare, Jason pushed past the younger man without another word. He didn't owe the Spencer clan any answers – especially not when he didn't have a fucking clue what was going on himself.

* * *

Courtney pulled her feet up onto the couch underneath her, watching her older brother fix her a drink. Carly sat on the couch next to her, idly playing with the hem of her dress. "Thank you," she nodded to her brother as he extended the liquor.

He nodded in reply and quietly shuffled to the armchair on her right, easing down onto it. "You doing okay, Courtney?"

She nodded in what she hoped was a convincing manner. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, really." Well, that was a lie – she hadn't touched her pills since the accident and she was really feeling the effects.

"You want to spend the night here again, hon?" Carly asked gently, toying with a lock of her sister-in-law's hair.

The blonde nodded slowly. "Yeah, if that's okay with you guys."

"Sure, it is," Sonny replied immediately. "You can always stay with us."

"Thanks," she replied gratefully, feeling the liquor burn a slow path down to her stomach. "I just…I don't want to spend another night alone in the penthouse. Jason…"

"We know," Carly replied soothingly, tucking the younger woman's hair behind her ear. "We know."

Tears crept into her eyes and Courtney sniffled, rubbing her running nose with the cuff of her sleeve. "He-He's been at the hospital since…since Emily, and he only comes home to shower and change. He doesn't even eat with me anymore – he just grabs something at the hospital. I haven't seen him in-in…"

"I know," Carly sighed, wrapping her arms around the crying woman's shoulders and pulling her into a hug, meeting Sonny's gaze over Courtney's head.

"I just really need him," the blonde sniffled against Carly's shoulder. "I just…I need him."

"He's worried about his sister and…Elizabeth," Sonny tried to remind her gently, unable to see his sister so upset. "He has a lot going on right now, and I know he wouldn't leave you alone on purpose. He's not thinking straight – he's just really worried."

"I know," Courtney sniffled, rubbing at her eyes. "It just feels like I'm his last priority."

Carly stroked her back gently, soothingly, and met Sonny's gaze once more. The message in her eyes was clear: Bring Jason back home.

* * *

"You're back." Her eyes were less guarded this time, almost as if she was kind of relieved to see his face again.

"I'm back," he nodded, doing his best not to let on how tired he was. He had slept in the chapel again – if it could be called sleep – despite his mother's efforts to fix him up a spare bed next to her office.

"What's that?" she asked, motioning to a book he held partly behind his back.

"This?" Jason brought the book out and absently tapped the spine with his fingers. "It's a book. Since you already counted the dots on the ceiling and everything."

She didn't smile at his reply but she didn't scoff either, and Jason took that as a good sign. "Is it for me?"

He shrugged. "Sure. You can read it now if you want."

Elizabeth's eyes turned cold. "I can't read – damn headaches. Can't concentrate on anything for too long."

Jason nodded with understanding, his grip tight on the book he held. "I…I could read it to you if you want."

She quirked a brow at him as if it was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. "No, thanks."

He nodded and gently set the book in his lap, averting his gaze so she wouldn't see the quick flash of hurt that ran through his eyes. "Okay."

They sat in silence for a long moment until Elizabeth spoke up. "They want to keep me here for a week more, at least."

Jason swallowed carefully, almost unable to believe the words that came out of his mouth next. "Maybe that's for the best – they want to make sure you're okay."

She wasn't looking at him but he noticed her nod her head absently. Elizabeth pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a controlled breath, trying to drown out the sound of the beeping machines and succeeding. It wasn't about staying here in the hospital that scared her – it was the fact that she had absolutely nowhere to go afterwards.

"Don't you have things you need to be doing?"

His blue eyes snapped to her face. "What?"

"You can't just have all the free time in the world to sit here and stare at me," she huffed. "Don't you have things to do?"

Jason shrugged slowly. "Nothing that can't wait. Nothing that's not as important."

"As important as what?"

He didn't even blink. "As important as you."

Elizabeth's breath caught sharply in her throat and she didn't know what to make of that. They were friends, this much he had told her, but it still didn't feel right. He was a stranger, a complete and total stranger – she had only recently learned that his name was Jason Morgan and knew almost nothing else – and yet there was something about him that…didn't make her want to throw things. He didn't ask anything of her; he didn't pester her about her health or how she was feeling or what she was thinking; he didn't bother her with memories and anecdotes and the ever popular 'I remember the time we…'. None of that. He just let her be. And she'd be lying if she said that part of her didn't respect him for that. But there were some times when the way he would look at her, the way he would speak to her, would tug at something deep inside her, something long forgotten. She didn't know what it was and she wasn't sure she was ready to find out. It was all too confusing, and she figured that if she managed to keep him at a distance until things at least made a little more sense, they'd all be the better for it.

"That nurse didn't take the fifth reading."

Jason blinked at her, confused by the abrupt change in subject. "Huh?"

"That one nurse. She took only four readings – I heard her pen."

"Which nurse?"

"Uh, chestnut hair, gray eyes, five foot six, one hundred and twenty-five pounds, approximately."

Jason's sandy brows shot up. Elizabeth noticed him staring at her and bristled under his gaze. "What?"

"Nothing," he assured her. "It's just that…you seem to have an eye for these things."

"It's called an observation," she replied blandly. "I see things. I remember them. I don't see how that's anything special."

"You've got a good eye," he told her easily. "And a good memory." And he didn't know what exactly to call her little math trick from the other day. "You pay attention to the details – lots of people don't."

"I have a feeling you do."

He actually smirked. "Well, yeah, but I do a lot of other things, too. I think differently. I speak differently. And there are a lot of things I don't do – I don't dream. I don't imagine. I don't pretend. I don't lie. I'm just…different. I'm wired that way, I guess."

The corner of Elizabeth's mouth hooked up in a sardonic, humorless smirk as she met his eyes directly and without flinching. "So am I."


	17. 17

**Note:** Happy birthday Jo! I worked really hard to get this up for you (Ooh! Dirty!) – aren't you proud? I'm just sorry that our favorite guy is evil in this one. Seriously, what was I thinking! Hope you have a fabulous day, love-ah!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

Her midnight blue eyes arrested his the instant Jason pushed open the door of her room, but Elizabeth's glare held no anger.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"

A smirk made his lips twitch when he saw what she was gesturing to. On the bed was a little picnic basket tied with a blue silk ribbon, and its contents lay on the pale white sheets. A burger, French fries, a few bottles of Sprite, a little plate of brownies, an apple turnover, and a daffodil.

"Did you see a dark-haired Irish guard lurking around here earlier?"

Elizabeth's slender brows furrowed as she tried to remember. "I think so."

Jason nodded affirmatively as he slid into the chair he usually occupied. "Johnny O'Brien, one of the guards I told you about. It looks like his work."

To his surprise, she was grinning down at the food. She even lifted the little daffodil and spun it between her fingers, studying the petals with a soft smile that took the tension right out of her delicate features. "That's nice of him. Were we really good friends or something?"

The enforcer lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "You were always nice to him, but then again, you were nice to all the guards you knew. Francis was your favorite, I think."

"Francis…" Her voice trailed off as she stroked one yellow petal. "Have I seen him yet?"

Jason shook his head. "He hasn't come in yet, but he's almost always pacing in the hall outside the door."

She nodded and set the flower down. "Next time you see him…can you tell him to come on in? Johnny, too."

That surprised him. The brunette was in better spirits today than she had been all week – maybe Johnny was on to something with his fast-food-in-a-basket idea. But then again, Elizabeth had made some headway. She didn't give in to as many tantrums and she seemed to be taking the first steps to accepting her predicament and all it entailed. She had sat through many long conversations with Alan and Monica – she always told him to leave and he suspected that she thought it might be hard for him to hear the medical outlook since he had been through it all before – and knew what her chances for a full recovery were: slim. Despite her wariness of the two doctors, Elizabeth had to admit that they had been supportive and a big help. It wasn't until their third conference together that she discovered just how close she had been to them, and the Drs. Quartermaine rose in her respect for not pushing memories of her old life on her.

She had also accepted brief visits from her former friends – very brief. Nikolas had stopped by a couple times and Elizabeth found him more tolerable than his younger brother, whom she staunchly refused to admit entry to her room. Johnny, Max and Francis were only too happy to comply. A dark-haired man by the name of Zander Smith also dropped in to see her, and she found him to be the easiest to get along with – besides Jason – because they never talked of anything heavy and serious. It was most likely because they didn't seem to have as profound a connection or friendship as she and Nikolas – and even that twip Lucky – supposedly did. Zander didn't expect anything from her. He merely dropped by with a cocky grin and a lame joke and talked to her about inconsequential things. And she appreciated it.

Nikolas, on the other hand, had been a fountain of knowledge. Though she hadn't asked him to, he had methodically gone through a long list of people she allegedly knew, even drawing out little diagrams when she asked him to slow down because her head was spinning. It turned out that he was the half-brother of Lucky Spencer and the stepson of Luke Spencer, and that his father had been Luke's mortal enemy and the son of the woman that had kidnapped his half-brother several years ago. Elizabeth had shaken her head as all the connections and details rattled around in her head, musing that she sure knew how to pick the winners.

Jason had stood – or sat, rather – by during the whole ordeal and when he sensed that the information session was wearing her out, he had calmly asked Nikolas to leave. The young man had done so with promises of stopping by later, and Elizabeth had collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, as soon as he was out the door. Jason had thought that she had fallen asleep after a little while, and had been surprised when she began to quietly ask him questions about her connections to various people in the town.

She learned about Emily Quartermaine, his sister, who was also in the hospital. The girl was supposed to be her best friend and hadn't even stopped by to see her. Sensing her irritation, Jason had explained that Emily was fighting breast cancer and was doing well, but was still somewhat scared to come see her.

He told her about the Quartermaines, who ran the hospital, and the Cassidines, who thought they ran the world. The Spencers were next on the list and Elizabeth learned that Luke's wife, Laura, was hospitalized in a mental institution. Her youngest son seemed poised to follow in her footsteps, she had remarked to an amused Jason.

He had told her everything she wanted to know until she was too tired to listen, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Jason had stayed with her while she slept. He was there when she woke up and after poking at her hospital food with thinly veiled disgust, the conversation turned more toward him. She knew that he didn't wear suits to work or punch a timecard daily, and she didn't entirely believe that he _just_ operated a coffee warehouse. Caving when he reflected that there was no way to hide it from her, Jason had given her the broad details of his employ, nothing that she hadn't already suspected thanks to a previous glimpse of the Glock he kept in his waistband.

Elizabeth still hadn't asked him for the details of his accident, and she refused to take him up on the offer to read to her from the book he brought with him every time he entered the room. There was something about Jason Morgan that told her she could trust him, but there was also something inside her that forced her to keep some sort of distance. Letting people come close right now just wasn't an option.

He was content for the time being to simply sit silently and study the wall as she sat propped back in bed. Being confined in the small room had long ago started driving her crazy, but there were remedies for that problem. The one that she found suited her best was something akin to meditation. She didn't know how it started; all she knew was that one day while Jason was sitting nearby, she had tuned into this one spot on the wall directly opposite her bed and her mind had just taken off. She heard and sensed everything around her – the beep of the monitors, Jason's steady and even breathing, the squeak of a nurse's sneakers down the hallway – but it was like she was closed off from all of it, sitting deep within this tomb of a body as the world continued to pass her by. Nothing touched her, nothing affected her, and she was safe. And alone. And it was a good feeling.

She was about to try that again when there was a soft knock at the door. Jason started, surprised until he remembered that whoever was knocking had been granted clearance from either Johnny, Max or Francis. Elizabeth watched the door open slowly and then two dark-haired people poked their heads inside.

She easily recognized one as Prince Nikolas Cassidine – however ridiculous she felt that title was – but the other one, belonging to a little girl in pink overalls, was unfamiliar. Her fingers still toyed with the daffodil Johnny sent her and Elizabeth tipped her head once, motioning for him to enter.

"Hello there," Nikolas smiled, hoping his sister wouldn't notice the somewhat formal tone he had unconsciously adopted while speaking to Elizabeth. He didn't know if she would appreciate the more familiar tone he was so used to using around her, so he tried to treat her like an acquaintance he had just met, and it seemed to be sitting just fine with her. Lulu, however, wasn't used to it just yet and he had no way of knowing how this encounter would turn out. But when his little sister had worked up the courage to ask him to take her to see Lizabeth, he just couldn't refuse her.

"Elizabeth, I want you to meet someone. This is my little sister, Lesley Lu Spencer. We call her Lulu for short."

* * *

An empty bottle of whiskey twinkled under a thin ray of sunlight that filtered in through the drawn curtains of the pool house. The reflection hit him directly in the eye and AJ groaned, rolling over on the carpet and half-heartedly groping around for a cushion he knew had been under his head a while ago.

He didn't know how long he had been passed out, and he figured it was either early morning or late afternoon judging by the angle of the sun. The past two weeks had been dizzying and he had once again fallen into the bottle. So much for the umpteenth stint at rehab.

Resolving to tell Jason definitely hadn't proved as easy as he had hoped. Things had spiraled out of control so fast and now that he looked back on it, he wasn't even sure how he had fallen into this abysmal situation in the first place. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong fucking everything.

It was as if time had seen fit to bring him back to exactly seven years ago; the feelings were all the same. The guilt, the remorse, the anger were all there, greeting him as old friends.

Time was running out; the longer he waited, the worse the outcome would likely be.

He had to tell Jason.

* * *

Courtney curled her knees into her chest, watching Carly as her sister-in-law returned from the kitchen with two bowls of cookie dough ice cream. Though Sonny often pitched a fit about her frozen pizzas and dinners-in-a-box, the mob boss begrudgingly allowed her ice cream and didn't make a big deal out of it. Courtney took the bowl slowly and just stared at it for a long moment before taking up the spoon.

Carly watched her curiously as she settled down onto the green couch. "What's wrong?"

The younger blonde lifted one shoulder wearily in reply. "Nothing. I'm just tired, I guess. I didn't sleep too well last night."

"Are you sick?" Carly asked. "Sometimes, when I push myself a bit too far, I make myself sick. You haven't been overdoing it lately, have you?"

Courtney shook her head. "No, it's just…I don't sleep well without Jason."

Her sister-in-law nodded sagely, licking a smear of ice cream from the corner of her mouth. "You miss him."

The young woman nodded miserably. "He's been spending all his time at the hospital, and when he's not there he's at the warehouse, and I just…"

"Miss him," Carly repeated. "Yeah, I know. I miss Sonny, too, when he sends us to the island. But it won't be for too long, sweetie, I don't think."

Courtney was silent for a long moment before her brows furrowed. "Isn't this…weird?"

The metallic clink of a spoon against the bowl met her ears as Carly set it on the coffee table. "What do you mean?"

"This is going to sound much worse than it's supposed to," Courtney warned, shifting closer to her sister-in-law. "But since when did Elizabeth become so important to him? They haven't spoken for months."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Even when she's unconscious, the little waif still manages to get her claws in him." Shrugging, she pulled a pillow into her lap and hugged it to her chest. "Jason's got a hero complex, and for some ridiculous reason, he blames himself whenever anyone around him gets hurt. The two of them used to be…whatever they were; trust me, he's only there out of pity and when she gets out of the hospital, we can all return to our normal lives."

"Here's hoping," Courtney murmured, setting her half-empty bowl on the counter. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"You know when you…when you were with Jason and he got shot?"

The question took her back to one of the lower points in her life and Carly nodded uneasily. "Yeah."

"Well, did you ever think that maybe…Elizabeth stole him from you?"

The blonde snorted. "Think? I know she did. The muffin always had her eye on him and she did whatever she could do to keep me away from him. Ever since then, she's had him under her control. I thought he finally wised up when he broke it off with her…" She trailed off and shook her head. "Listen, don't worry about Elizabeth, okay? She doesn't even remember anything about Jason or anyone else for that matter. And hey – Jason loves you. He loves _you_," she emphasized, squeezing the younger woman's hand. "There's nothing that's going to keep him from marrying you and making a family with you – especially not some muffin-faced waif that can't even remember her own name."

Tears pricked at Courtney's eyes at the mention of a family – a family she wouldn't be able to give Jason thanks to what had happened aboard Alcazar's yacht. She cleared her throat and tried to come up with something to say – anything – before the memories took over. But she failed. The voices of his men as they yelled for her. The way the slick metal railing felt in her hands. The frigid waves as they engulfed her body, cutting straight through to the bone.

Courtney bowed her head, trying to blink away the tears that had rapidly pooled in her eyes, and cleared her throat once more. Her heart was pounding and she was certain all the blood had drained from her face, leaving her feeling cold and clammy.

Carly was watching her with concern. "Hey, hey – you sure you're doing okay?"

"I-I don't know," she croaked out. It was the first honest thing she'd said in almost two weeks. "I…I think I'm…" She trailed off, burying her face in her hands as Carly gently brushed her hand through her long golden mane. "I think I need to get out of here."

* * *

"Boss? You wanted to see me?"

Lorenzo Alcazar's obsidian eyes fell on one of his men as he entered the large office. "Enrique, I need you to report to Ruiz – he has business that I want you personally to take care of."

The young man puffed out his chest, pleased and flattered with the personal order. Mr. Alcazar rarely delegated assignments outside of his top circle, and this was truly an honor. "Yes, sir, Mr. Alcazar."

His amusement was short-lived as Lorenzo watched the young man scuttle away, eager to do well on the trivial assignment. With a sigh, he turned his chair to face the windows beyond which lay the sparkling dark waters of the harbor. The yacht was his palace, his domain, imperceptible to all except his inner circle. He rarely conducted business on land and he hoped not to have to – at least, not in this little town.

He glanced at his platinum watch, grimacing when he noted that he still had half an hour before he could place his call to the Sandoval family. They shouldn't be much of a problem; they had coveted his services for years but since he had been based primarily in Spain, a trip to the North American continent never made it to his agenda.

But the Iberian wasn't what it used to be, and he was forced to seek other markets. The eastern coast was a hotbed for all sorts of illegal goings-on, and he knew he stood to make a fortune. The Sandoval family was one of the most powerful individual families in the area, almost as powerful as the league of all Five Families put together. A partnership with them would be most lucrative; he'd be able to spread his goods throughout all of New England, concentrating on Gotham City itself, naturally.

The only problem was that the Sandoval family was based farther inland than he liked, and their transport routes weren't nearly as discreet and safe as Lorenzo preferred. After having his men conduct the proper research, he had decided himself that the best ways to filter arms into the east coast and directly down to New York City was through the small harbor town of Port Charles. It was a sleepy little place that was barely a dot on the map, and it was perfect. However, the only way to transport his shipment inland to the Sandoval base was through the waterfront property – all of which was owned by either the Corinthos organization or the Quartermaine family. The doctors weren't as shrewd when it came to real estate and property as was Mr. Corinthos, and it was the mobster's warehouse piers that Lorenzo coveted most fiercely.

He had tried negotiating at first with Corinthos, but the man skull was as thick as his ego was big. He had tried to force his way in, but he had severely underestimated the sort of organization Corinthos led. With all his own experience, he expected that the kingpin of a sleepy little town in bumfuck upstate New York would be fairly easy to subdue. But Corinthos' men were loyal and cunning, and nothing short of an all-out mob war would grant him the property he so desired. And Lorenzo did not need that sort of publicity.

And so when a golden opportunity had presented itself, he would surely have been a fool not to reach out and grab it. The moblord's sister took a joyride while intoxicated and struck another motorist, causing the young woman to have no recollection of her life. And it wasn't just any woman – it was the town's sweetheart. Elizabeth Webber, as his sources informed him, came from a family of doctors that had all but built General Hospital from the ground up and the young woman had ties to nearly every influential family in town. She was practically part of the Quartermaine family due to her old friendship with the young Emily Bowen; she was counted a Spencer due to her broken engagement to Luke's son; she was even once one of Sonny Corinthos and Jason Morgan's associates. Not only that, but she was rumored to have saved the enforcer's life.

The enforcer that was currently engaged to the woman that cost Elizabeth her memory.

A wicked smile curved his lips and Lorenzo's eyes danced with the sparkling water. He had the incriminating evidence in his back pocket; he had everything he needed to ensure himself the property of both families – the Corinthos organization and the Quartermaines. If he played his cards right, though.

It would be easy to scare the black sheep of the affluent family; AJ Quartermaine was all but shunned by all, and there seemed to be a deep, permanent rift between him and his enforcer-brother. The man was also once married to Jason's fiancé, which only made things more interesting. By playing on his fear of being eliminated by his own brother, Lorenzo could easily scare AJ into working to get him his family's property. And then, well, he'd just play the other end against the middle. Doubtless, the last thing in the world that either Sonny or Jason wanted was for fair Courtney's name to be implicated in costing another woman her memory and almost her life in an unreported hit-and-run accident.

The rewards reaped from this endeavor would be fantastic, and Lorenzo could almost taste the fruit of his victory.

* * *

It was about three in the morning when Jason finally finished up his work at the warehouse. Since he was so close to the hospital, he figured that he might as well stop by to check up on the guards – and Elizabeth. When he had left her, Nikolas had just brought little Lulu in to see her.

Johnny and Francis didn't have much to report. Elizabeth was doing fine and had allowed Nikolas and Lulu to stay for quite a while before asking them to leave. She had slept after that, and had later been wheeled away for more tests. She had been brought back to her room recently and had asked for a hamburger with curly fries.

That made Jason smirk; it was hardly the sort of food a recovering patient should be eating, but he didn't blame the guards for not being able to deny her. Francis could never say no to the young woman he had once guarded, and Johnny was just a softie anyway when it came to women, probably because he had grown up as the only boy with seven older sisters.

Max replaced Johnny and Francis outside the door as the two friends shuffled off to get some food and some sleep, and Jason quietly stole into the hospital room. To his surprise, the lights were on and Elizabeth was sitting up in bed, looking completely alert.

She glanced up when he came in, but other than quirking an eyebrow at him – a movement so subtle it was almost imperceptible – the brunette made no move to acknowledge his presence.

He meant to stay only for a minute, just to see how she was before letting her get some sleep and going home to Courtney, but Jason found himself lowering his body into one of the plastic chairs as if completely by virtue of habit. The brunette was looking better than she had for the past week. Color had finally returned to her pale skin and though she still had noticeable circles under her eyes, they weren't as dark as they were before. She had washed her hair recently and had let it dry naturally in soft waves, and her long nails were clipped. Elizabeth always used to like to keep her nails a little on the long side, and she'd usually paint them a subtle pink color. But today, her nails were short and nude.

She held something in her hands, something pink that he couldn't quite make out until it came whizzing through the air at his head. Instinctively, he ducked without even waiting for reason to tell him that he didn't need to. The ball pinged against the sill of the window, making the blinds crackle, then bounced off the ceiling and into Elizabeth's waiting hand.

A small smirk on her lips told him that she had been anticipating that, and what was more, she had all but mapped out the little pink superball's journey. She tossed it to herself and he could see her sapphire orbs dart around the room, lingering at certain points, and he knew instantly that she was planning another route for the ball.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Lulu Spencer," she murmured in reply, studying the metal railing of her bed as she rolled the ball between her fingers. Out of habit, he waited for her to say something more – Elizabeth liked to talk and would frequently ramble on – but the young woman remained quiet, clearly having no use for extra words.

"You've been playing with it since?" The attempts to start up a conversation sounded hollow and awkward to him; after all, Jason Morgan didn't _start_ conversations. He let other people talk. But that was kind of hard to do considering the other person wasn't saying much. It was almost an out-of-body experience for him, but he brushed off the surreal feelings as best he could.

She nodded. "Nothing else to do."

His gaze lingered on the books Nikolas had brought for her. A few colorful magazines, a green leather-bound book whose title he couldn't quite make out at the distance, and _The Little Engine That Could_. That must have been from Lulu. "What about reading?"

"The magazines are ridiculous, the print in the Preust is too small, and I've already been told the train story twice."

Amusement kicked up the corner of his mouth. "Lulu read it to you?"

"Twice," she repeated with a nod, flexing her wrist as she prepared to launch the superball. "Move your left foot."

Jason barely had time to do what she asked before the little brunette flicked her wrist and sent the ball flying. It hit the wall across from her, crashed into the ceiling and made an impression on one of the tiles, hit the window sill by his elbow and then bounced off the metal railing on her bed before hitting the leg of his chair – right where his foot had been – and returning to her small hand once more.

He wasn't aware that his jaw had dropped until Elizabeth smirked at him, clearly amused. "This is how I've been entertaining myself."

It was all Jason could do to snap his mouth shut and just stare at her as she resumed tossing the superball to herself, her eyes following the streak of bubblegum pink through the air. He was still getting used to the changes in this new Elizabeth – her temper, her language, her succinct responses, her acute memory and reasoning skills, not to mention the math deduction that seemed to occur instantaneously in her head – and this new skill threw him for a loop. Now he understood why she was studying various points in the room – she was visually judging the surface of the wall, predicting where it would send the ball if she applied enough force to it; she was taking in the criss-crossing ravines that the tiles made in the ceiling, making a note of where the ball would go if it bounced off the flat surface versus the groove; she was mentally analyzing her environment, making inferences and predictions and then acting it all out with the foreseen outcome.

It still blew him away.

Elizabeth didn't mind the silence at all; she actually liked it. When she had awoken the first time after surgery, there had been this dull ringing in her head. It had receded since and wasn't bothering her anymore, but it did make her appreciate silence. When it was completely silent in the room, she could always tune in to the tiniest noises, and she tested herself by trying to figure out what the noises were. If they were noises made by people, she tried to guess how far away that particular person was and would then wait to see if she was right. So far, her record was pretty impressive. Right now, for example, there seemed to be some heavy-set individual padding along at a steady face about ten feet down the hall from her door in those damn squeaky sneakers that seemed to abound in the hospital.

She sighed to herself and settled back in the pillows, still playing with the ball. It had been sweet of the child to give it to her. She was afraid to she'd been a bit blunt in the meeting; she didn't remember being too concerned for the fact that the little girl was scared and desperately hoping for her to show some sign of recognition. She didn't have the patience for that, especially not after what that Lucky boy had tried to pull. She just didn't need that sort of mental aggravation. It was hard enough for her to deal with her situation on her own terms, and she'd be damned if she tried to deal with it on someone else's.

So she had been entirely frank when the little girl hesitantly asked her if she remembered who she was. No, she did not.

Did she think that she would again someday?

She didn't know.

But what did she _think_?

That the chances were slim and she wouldn't get her hopes up.

Elizabeth had expected for the bland answers to chase the child away, but little Lulu didn't show any desire to leave. Instead, she had simply extended one chubby little hand and dropped the pink superball baring all sorts of teeth marks into Elizabeth's palm, and instructed that she keep it.

The gesture, meaningless under any other circumstance, had softened something inside of her and she had asked Lulu if she wanted to sit on the bed. Nikolas had tried to hide the tears in his eyes as he deposited his sister onto the white sheets and pulled up a chair for himself. For the next hour, they talked of Lulu's school and the boy that always put his mouth on the water fountain, and then the young girl had innocently launched into a long story about how her big brother didn't remember who he was, either, once upon a time but he used to sneak back and see her all the time. Nikolas had tried various times to intervene and distract her, but the young girl wouldn't be deterred from relating what she hoped would be a helpful if not inspiring story.

Elizabeth had let her continue but had admittedly tuned her out after a little while and spent the rest of the conversation letting her fingers memorize the little imperfections in the ball where Lulu's teeth had clearly done a number on the rubber. After a while, Lulu suggested that she read to her, and had pulled out her train book and proceeded to do just that. Apparently, once wasn't enough because the little girl started it once more from the beginning to make sure Elizabeth got it.

She had waited until the last page before telling them that she was tired, and Nikolas apologized hastily and picked his little sister up once more. The two of them said goodbye and Elizabeth had fallen asleep not too long after with the little ball clutched in her hand.

She had slipped back into reality as seamlessly as she had slipped off into slumber, and she just lay still in the bed for a good long time before her tests, just thinking. Almost two weeks had passed and she was doing much better. She felt better physically, which was probably the reason she was no longer snapping at everyone that looked at her. There was still so much pent-up rage inside of her, anger that she could feel stewing deep within her, but she refused to let it out for the time being. She had to concentrate on getting better and getting out of the hospital; that was her goal, that was her focus, that was what she would strive for single-mindedly.

But as she lay in her bed, telling herself to concentrate only on improving, her thoughts had drifted elsewhere. Jason's rough voice found her once more as she remembered his offer to tell her about what happened to him, and his offer to read to her. She didn't know what would prompt a man like Jason Morgan to say that to her; the first thing that had occurred to her was that perhaps the act of reading held some special significance.

But since she didn't have any clue about her past relations with the man, she didn't have much to back up the inference. One guess was as good as another; maybe Jason Morgan, the big, bad hitman that she had figured out he was, just got a kick out of reading to people. He might even have a habit of tucking his gun way into the back of his jeans and making it just in time for Story Time at the library.

The thought made her laugh, and it was the first time she'd actually done so since she had woken up.

But the quest to discover some hidden meaning behind his offer was a useless one, especially since she didn't plan on asking him any time soon about what relationship they had. The focus right now was to stay abreast of the chaos and pain, not drown in the forgotten memories.

So she had to think of his offer to read to her as just that – a simple offer, free of any hidden agenda or esoteric connotation.

She had thought of him reading to her up until the orderlies came in to wheel her off for more tests. And after that, she had brushed those thoughts aside as inconsequential and instead distracted herself by wolfing down a burger and two orders of cheesy fries. The food was disgusting and greasy and ridiculously fattening but she didn't care; she indulged herself freely, especially after having to put up with the hospital's version of food for a while before the guards took matters into their own hands.

And after she was done with her tests, she had amused herself with the little superball until Jason arrived. He had surprised her; she definitely wasn't expecting him tonight. It was late, and she hardly believed that he had all the time in the world to just stop by and see her at three in the morning.

But still, she was glad that he was here. It was better than being alone again.

The clock ticked audibly in the background as Elizabeth rolled the ball between her palms, letting her gaze slide discreetly over to Jason. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, his hand cupping his chin as he stared at one of the legs of her bed. Elizabeth shifted in the bed, letting herself slide down on the pillows, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to hear him finally read to her.

"Jason?"

He looked up in surprise and was about to answer when his cell phone cut him off. Bewildered, he first looked down at the silver device clipped to his belt and then up at her. Elizabeth snapped her mouth shut and pretended to be interested elsewhere, silently giving him permission to answer it.

Jason slid out of his chair and into the hallway, letting the door click softly shut as he answered it. "Morgan."

"_Jason?"_

"Courtney?" He blinked in the harsh fluorescent lighting, scrubbing one hand over his jaw. "It's late – what's going on?"

"_I…I decided that I want to go to the island for a while."_

The statement confused him and he frowned at the wall, not knowing what to say. "Oh."

"_I just…I need to relax, take a breather, you know, and I…I think this would be good for me. Carly and I, we were talking earlier tonight and…she helped me pack and I'm leaving in about twenty minutes. I know you're working at the warehouse so you don't have to rush home; it's okay. I just need a change of scenery for a little while."_

"Oh." He nodded once, moving aside as an orderly shuffled by with a sealed bag of clear liquid in his gloved hands. "Okay. When do you think you'll come back?"

"_I-I don't know. I'm just going to get to the island and take it from there. You're not mad, are you?"_

Her sudden desire to leave puzzled him, but he had never stood in the way of anything his fiancé wanted. "No. Call me when you get there so I know you're safe."

"_I will. I love you, Jason."_

"I love you, too."

"_Bye."_

She hung up without waiting for him to repeat the word – Jason rarely said goodbye at the end of a conversation – and the mobster clicked his phone off and dropped it into his pocket. Courtney did seem a little tired in the past week, and she seemed to have lost some weight. If she thought she needed a change of scenery for a while, then she did. Still, it confused him but he didn't linger on it.

Wrapping his hand around the handle, Jason quietly opened the door and stepped back into Elizabeth's room. "You were saying something, Elizabeth."

The brunette's raven lashes fluttered over half-concealed pools of midnight blue, and her lips were gently parted. She shifted slightly in the bed and Jason could tell she was almost asleep. "It was nothing."


	18. 18

**Note:** This is kind of a short one; about half of my usual chapter length. I'm trying to refamiliarize myself with this story, and I like what's happening. Though this is short, more will follow soon.

**Chapter Eighteen**

Jason Morgan was worried.

It wasn't because he hadn't heard from his fiancé since she'd gone to the island almost a week ago; it wasn't because Lorenzo Alcazar seemed to be lying in wait on his yacht in the Port Charles harbor. It wasn't any of those things.

The cause of his unease and anxiety was one petite little brunette – the same one who had been inside her closed hospital room for about two hours with a small group of doctors.

Francis and Max had gone home and only he and Johnny remained, waiting vigilantly nearby until there was news. Monica had taken pity on them and tried to explain that they needn't look so worried; Elizabeth was doing fine and her life was under no direct threat. Still, her son remained unconvinced and Monica could only sigh as she retreated to her work once more. It was no secret that the hospital still made Jason uncomfortable, and the enforcer looked like a caged animal as he paced back and forth past a motionless Johnny.

Presently, the doors opened and several doctors filed out before shutting the door softly. Johnny shifted away from the wall, ready to assume his regular position outside as Jason went in. But his boss lingered there, his hand gingerly holding the handle, and the bodyguard shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

"Just go in."

Jason looked up sharply at the man but Johnny stared calmly back at him.

"Just go in," he repeated. "You're one of the few people she can actually see here – one of the few people she actually tolerates. Just go in."

The enforcer sighed and quietly twisted the handle, entering her room. Johnny remained outside as he pushed it shut quietly behind him. Elizabeth was in her hospital bed, reclined back almost completely. She had told him a couple days ago that she hated it when the bed was flat and always kept it inclined a bit; laying flat on the mattress made the room seem bigger and she felt helpless, as if she couldn't get a full look at her surroundings. And Jason knew enough about this Elizabeth to know that she liked to have her bearings at all times, and absolutely detested feeling helpless, an attitude that prevented the doctors from treating her like any other patient. Despite the tragedy of her circumstances, she had refused to break under them and he found that incredibly admirable. The Elizabeth he had known from years before – back when they were actually friends – had been a remarkably strong woman, and he had almost allowed himself to forget just _how_ strong. The Elizabeth in the hospital bed in front of him served as an excellent reminder.

He hovered by the door, studying her delicate form. She had pulled the blankets up to her chin and her small hands gripped them protectively as her head lolled listlessly to the side. She was tired. A frown pinched the corner of his mouth as he stepped closer; those doctors didn't help matters any. They had exhausted her.

His boots creaked and Elizabeth's lashes fluttered. Pools of sapphire blue peeked out from under raven lashes and the brunette shifted in her bed. Jason moved closer and shook his head. "It's okay," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

"I…"

"It's okay," he repeated, "you're tired. I just wanted to check in with you before I went back to the warehouse."

She nodded slowly and let her lids fall shut. "Go."

He waited a moment and it was soon clear that she was fast asleep. Jason stood still, just watching her, and found himself wondering if her skin had been that pale the last time he'd seen her. She looked as if she had been completely drained of all color and life, and her nimble form was small and delicate in the large bed.

Hesitantly, he reached a hand out and brushed an errant lock of hair back from her forehead before backing away and quietly exiting the room.

* * *

She had a dodecahedron-shaped Rubik cube in her hand and was sitting up in bed when he entered her room again. Max was at the door and let Jason in, and the enforcer was mildly surprised to see Johnny lounging in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. 

"Would you believe it?" he groused, ruffling the pages. "Martha Stewart's stock actually went up. Little Miss Susie Homemaker goes to jail and rakes in the millions. How come I don't have it that good when I get thrown in the slammer?"

To his amazement, Elizabeth actually chuckled as she played with her cube. "How's ALPET doing today?"

"Let me check." There was some more rustling of newspapers before Johnny found the listing. "Up thirteen points. Respectable."

"Good trend," Elizabeth murmured, furrowing her brows as the cube clicked. "Pretty steady, too; about a net growth of 27 over the past two weeks. Take my advice, John – get in on the action."

Jason felt like he was watching a movie as Johnny looked seriously up at the young woman in the hospital bed. "You think so? I'll see if Max and Francis want to – we can get a pool going or something."

But Elizabeth wasn't paying attention to him anymore because the brunette had finally looked up and seen Jason standing at attention at her doorway. "Hey."

He nodded back. "Hey."

Johnny tipped his head at his boss and stood from his chair, refolding the newspaper. "Take it easy, Elizabeth," he instructed the young woman before moving toward the door. "I'll be at the warehouse for my shift," he informed Jason, who only nodded in reply.

Left alone in the room with the patient, Jason slowly shuffled toward his usual seat. Elizabeth was watching him carefully, her fingers still moving with the multi-colored cube.

"Don't you ever have things to do?"

Her blunt, abrupt statements had ceased to surprise him, and the corner of Jason's mouth hooked upward. "I do things," he replied in mock-defense.

She shook her head and whisked her dark locks back irreverently with one hand, turning her attention back to the oddly-shaped Rubik puzzle. "You're always here, Jason," she answered, seriously this time. "I don't want to keep you from business."

The young woman had gleaned all the information she wanted about his business from the guards, and although it made Jason slightly uneasy, he brushed it off. "You don't."

"Good," she muttered, letting the pink tip of her tongue poke out of her mouth as she worked the plastic between her hands. Abruptly, she set her hands down in her lap and looked blankly up at him. "Why _are_ you here all the time?"

He shifted in the chair, stretching out his long legs. "Because I'm one of the few people you actually let in here."

She didn't smile and just stared back at him. "I told Max not to let that Lucky kid in here, you know." Jason's mouth twitched. "He goes into hysterics and it annoys the shit out of me. The Prince is okay, though." She tipped her head to the side and blinked. "So are you here because you feel sorry for me? Poor brain-damaged kid with no friends?"

The words weren't tinged with bitterness or anger, or even remorse, but they still made him uneasy. Jason straightened in his chair, lacing his fingers together. "I don't feel sorry for you."

The answer pleased her and although she tried to hide it, he could see the glimmer in her sapphire eyes. "Why not?"

The corner of his mouth twitched once more. "Because you would have tried to hurt me if I ever felt sorry for you."

That answer pleased her more, and the little brunette let her chin jut forward proudly. "Good."

But Jason wasn't done. He leaned forward in his chair and his intense cerulean eyes bore into hers. "And you're not brain-damaged."

She stilled for a moment, staring back, and then lifted the puzzle higher and resumed fiddling with it. "Yes, I am." A long pause followed and she glanced up at him quickly, questioningly. "You want to hear about it?"

Jason's chair screeched as he hauled it closer to the bed and Elizabeth began to speak, never once removing her eyes from the brightly colored dodecahedron in her hands. "You came in after Dr. Mulrow left, before I fell asleep." She didn't wait for a confirmation. "They finally told me everything. The test results came back and looked pretty good; they said that they had been hoping a second surgery wouldn't be necessary, and they were right."

Relief flickered through his eyes but he remained silent, watching her.

"But…" The obnoxious clicking continued as Elizabeth played with the Rubik puzzle. "There was damage done to my frontal cortex. It was swelling when they brought me in, and they performed surgery to alleviate that. All the tests showed that – long story short – everything else is fine. But there's still a part of my cortex that is damaged, and that's why I can't remember anything."

She was relaying this account as if she were talking about someone else, and Jason curled his hands into loose fists.

"They said a second surgery to repair the damaged area was risky, and especially since there was a good chance that the tissue would heal on its own."

It was not what he had been expecting to hear and Jason cleared his throat. "How good?"

The brunette shrugged and the cube clicked. "About fifty percent. That's good enough for me." Her hands stilled and she looked up at him with wide, honest eyes. "I hate this place, Jason. _I hate it_. I don't want them to drag me back into the operating room and cut open my head. I don't remember anything and they want to fix it – I think they're confused why I'm not hurt or angry or sad or just…anything. And I don't know. Not being able to remember…I'm kind of numb to it. It's like I almost want to feel something, but I can't, and I think that in some ways, that's better."

She looked down at the cube and clicked a row in place. "And if there's a fifty-percent chance that I'll recover on my own, I'll take it. I'll walk and I'll take it. That's what I told them – I said I didn't want to go through with the surgery and that I wouldn't. And they said that they're keeping me for observation and that I'll be released in a week. I bet I can get it down to four days."

Jason felt rather numb himself as she heaped this information upon him and he watched her play with the cube some more. "Four days." It felt strange saying the words, realizing that in four days to a week's time, she could be out on the street, living her life despite what had happened. It was the same thing he had done, but applying those same memories of starting a new life from nothing and applying them to Elizabeth pained him deeply. What had happened to him was terrible, and he would never have wished it on another person. Despite the fact that he and Elizabeth were far from friends when her accident took place, he felt a certain kinship with her and consequently, he felt it was his duty to stay with her and help her and be there for her the way he had wanted someone to be there for him. No expectations. No insinuating, nostalgic reminders of the past.

"There. I'm done."

Her voice cut through his silent reverie and Jason blinked at the cube that she now held to his face. He wasn't that familiar with these plastic puzzles, but Michael had one and he remembered how thrilled the boy had been when he had first solved it after about three weeks of trying. Apparently, all the pieces that were the same color had to be on one side, which made sense. The dodecahedron that Elizabeth presented to him, however, still remained in a confusing jumble of colors.

He took it in his hand and stared at it. "Isn't it supposed to be red on one side, blue on the other, and so on?"

She rolled her eyes and plucked the hunk of plastic from his hands. "Yeah, in preschool, maybe. Look at this, Jason." Her slender fingers lifted the puzzle up, directing his vision. "See, here? Seven spaces for each side, twelve faces total, six opposing sides, and six total colors. The center of each of the twelve faces is a primary color – red, blue, and yellow here – and each opposing face corresponds exactly."

His head was spinning as he studied the puzzle and after listening to her explanation, Jason could see what she meant. And despite the fact that he usually braced himself for these surprises, this one still blew him away.

She took the puzzle from him and tossed it in the air, catching it easily. "There's always a standard way to do something, Jason. Sometimes, you've gotta put a different spin on things to see what they _could_ be like."

* * *

It was late when he walked into Jake's, inhaling the familiar scent of beer, sweat, and cigarette smoke. He noticed a couple of the regulars still lingering by the pool tables and the jukebox was blaring as usual. Johnny could be seen in the corner talking to a buxom redhead who was soon joined by her equally blessed blonde friend. A couple of the other guards were also loitering around, collectively sending up billowing clouds of smoke as they played a card game in the back. 

But there was one person seated at the bar that certainly wasn't a regular. In fact this man, dressed in an olive green Armani suit with expensive calfskin loafers tapping a nervous beat on the rung of the worn leather stool, he stood out like a bull in a china shop. Or rather, he stood out like a Quartermaine in a ratty dive.

His older brother hadn't seen him yet, but Johnny had. Jason leveled a stoic look in his direction and the guard quietly untangled himself from the two women enjoying his company. He strode easily across the bar to Jason's side, pulling him into the shadows where the two of them watched the Quartermaine heir.

"He's been here for an hour and forty-five minutes," the bodyguard related without much preamble or even a greeting. "When he asked for you, Jake said you were out and that she wasn't expecting you til late – and that was only if you finished early and wanted a beer."

Jason nodded and Johnny continued. "Jake tried to hint around that you probably wouldn't be here, but he said he'd wait for a week if he had to. She said it seemed pretty important, but she knew that you could never tell for sure with a Quartermaine. Anyway, he's been here since and he's had a couple beers, that's about it. Kept to himself, hasn't talked to anyone except one guy – and from what I can tell, there was nothing suspicious about it. Anything else?"

The enforcer shook his head, still staring hard at his older brother. Johnny hesitated a moment and then tipped his chin at the older businessman. "You gonna talk to him?"

Jason let out a deep breath and rubbed his jaw with one hand. "Yeah."

Johnny nodded and straightened his tie, taking a step away. "I'll be by the jukebox."

With that, he retreated and Jason was left standing in the shadows, wondering just what on earth was so important that AJ Quartermaine would wait almost two hours at a dirty bar in an Armani suit to tell him. Letting out another sigh, he stuffed his hands into his pockets, instantly finding the dodecahedron that Elizabeth had given to him, and advanced on the man.

Casually, he slid onto the worn leather stool next to his brother and motioned for a beer. To his credit, AJ remained staring straight ahead of him as he lifted his own bottle and took a long pull.

Squaring his jaw, Jason raked a single disdainful look over his older brother. "Slumming tonight?"

The Quartermaine heir's mouth hooked upward and he set his bottled down on the counter. "Yup. Seeing as how this was the first place you went, I figured it was a pretty good place to begin my career as a lowlife."

"Begin?" Jason muttered, wrapping his fingers around the slender glass bottle Jake set in front of him.

"I'll have one more," AJ announced, smiling broadly at the matron as she handed him another bottle.

Jason slid a sidelong glance at his older brother. "Fall back into the bottle again?"

AJ turned on his stool for the first time and graced his brother with a smarmy smile. "Oh, we've all got to fall sometime, Jason, somehow. And now seems to be my time. But I don't intend to go alone."

"Expecting your luck to change?" Jason all but sneered, finding it difficult to rein in his hatred of his older brother. He normally didn't bite when AJ baited him, but the older man's appearance threw off his equilibrium. There were minor problems at the warehouse, trouble on the horizon with the families, and coupled with Elizabeth's situation, he was set off-center by his brother's uncharacteristic venture to the lower end of town, to his own turf. "You've always been alone, AJ, and you always will."

AJ's dark brown eyes sobered and he looked hard at his brother. "It must be nice being the Golden Boy," he finally said. "Med student or street thug, some things never change. It must be nice, though, to wander in from on high and pass judgment on all the contemptible, wretched souls that aren't even worthy to be the shit on the bottom of your shoe." He leaned closer and the smell of his expensive, spicy cologne made Jason grit his teeth. "It must be nice to always be right, Jason. I wonder, then, what would happen if you were ever wrong."

Jason glared hard at his brother, a stoic mask descending upon his stony features, and the older man continued unabashed, in a low timbre. "Would the sky come crashing down? Would the world tip on its axis? Or would everyone just wake up and see that under the weed-whacker spikes and James Dean jacket, you're just a confused and lost hoodlum?"

He ground his teeth together and slammed his bottle down on the counter, sliding off his stool. "You can save your barbs for someone else, AJ. I don't need this. You came to _me_, not the other way around."

AJ, too, slid off his stool and stood stock-straight, barring his brother's path with a hard, defiant look in his dark brown eyes. "Classic Jason – no one's worth your time. But tell me, little brother - Is that any way to talk to the man that saved your drug-addicted fiancé from the long arm of the law?"


	19. 19

**Note: **Hee hee. The only reason I was able to do this was because of the lovely pink pony Jen sent me for Christmas. It has magical powers; I'm not even gonna lie. I have named the pink pony Phar Fig Newton. He (yes, the pink pony is a he) likes to sit on my leg as I write. Yay!

**Chapter Nineteen**

The penthouse was dark and eerily silent as Jason wearily let himself in. He waited for the answering machine to indicate whether or not Courtney had called at the house, but he was only met with deathly quiet. His footsteps were heavy on the polished hardwood as he moved into the room, looking about it uncertainly. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a stranger in his own house.

He tossed his keys onto his desk, one of the two pieces of furniture in the main room that had survived his fiancé's compulsive redecorating disorder. Leather creaked as he wrestled with his jacket, managing to get it off and flinging it to the couch before he moved toward the pool table in the corner. He passed it slowly, wearily, trailing his fingertips over the green felt as he headed for the balcony. The cold air assaulted him instantly as he threw the doors open, but Jason welcomed it. Dressed only in a blue sweater over his white undershirt, he faced the howling wind head-on, closing his eyes against the frigid rush.

He stood like that for a long moment, hoping the whistling gusts would drown out the whirlwind in his head. It had been nearly three hours since he left his older brother standing alone in a room above Jake's after spewing out a long-winded story about drugs and rival mobsters and accidents. AJ had been in top form tonight, pulling on every bit of venomous Quartermaine dialectic at his disposal.

He didn't believe him.

Or at least, he was trying his best not to.

The wind billowed past him into the penthouse, upsetting the small bamboo frames that Courtney had used to set out pictures of miniature trees and flowers. Jason didn't even flinch as the frames fell with a clatter, the glass cracking and splintering upon impact. He just held his eyes closed against the wind and waited. He waited until the heaviness in his chest abated, leaving him room to think.

The moment never came.

Presently, when his lips were blue and his nose was beginning to run, Jason slowly shook himself out of his silent reverie. Reluctantly, he grasped the cold golden handles and closed the balcony doors, shutting out the powerful gale. He didn't spare a glance at the shattered glass and upset flower vases as he turned, and made his way toward his desk with slow, powerful strides.

The number he dialed on the penthouse phone was one he knew by heart, but his fingers were slow as they fumbled to press the buttons. After a couple minutes, a sleepy voice answered.

"_Jason?"_

He let a controlled breath whistle out his nostrils. "It's me."

Courtney let out a yawn. _"Hey. What's wrong?"_

It was a moment before he could speak. "I just wanted to see how you were."

He heard her chuckle, pleased with his concern. _"I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine."_

A muscle in his jaw ticked. "Yeah?"

"_Mm-hmm." _He could almost see the smile on her face. _"The island has been wonderful, Jason. I can't tell you how beautiful it is here. It's just what I needed, and I feel so much better now."_

Jason's hand gripped the edge of his desk as he leaned forward slightly. "Thinking of coming back soon?"

The tone shifted, and he could clearly hear the nervousness in his fiancé's voice even as the younger woman struggled to disguise it. _"Why, you miss me that much?"_

The forced giggle at the end of the question made him clench his jaw. "Just wondering when you wanted to come back."

Courtney sighed softly. _"Not right away," _she admitted. _"I just want to stay on a bit longer…"_

He waited for her to continue, but the woman had simply trailed off. Easing himself down on to his black desk chair, he wrapped his long fingers around the armrest in a vice-like grip. Courtney remained silent on the other end of the line, and he himself had absolutely no intention of filling in the silence.

There was no way that AJ was right. There was no way that Courtney could have run Elizabeth over with her car and then allowed her ex-husband to help her cover it up. He had nearly broken AJ's face in for the accusations, but that hadn't stopped his older brother from spitting them out. In the end, however, he couldn't even tell Jason where the car was, giving him absolutely no reason to believe the man.

Still, the 'absolutely no reason' produced nagging doubts that he had hoped his fiancé would be able to put to rest. But she was just making him more suspicious.

"_So…how are things back in Port Charles? How're Carly and Michael?"_

"Fine."

"_That's good. Tell them I said hi, would you?"_

"Yeah. Michael asked the other day when you were coming back."

"_Gosh, poor little guy. Tell him…tell him I don't know yet. There are some…there are some things that I need to sort out."_

That had him interested. "What sort of _things_?"

Her laughter was forced and artificial. _"Oh, you know, just some stuff. Everything's kinda gone haywire since Alcazar…I just need some time to be alone, to think about everything, decompress. I just have to get away from everything in Port Charles."_

The last line had him grinding his teeth. If AJ was right…so help them both.

"_I have to go, Jason, but I'll call you soon, okay? I love you. Bye."_

"Bye." Looking down at his closed cell phone, Jason was sorely tempted to give into the urge of just hurling it across the room, taking delight in watching it shatter into a million tiny shards of plastic and circuitry. Somehow, he managed to resist.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he leaned back in his desk chair and tipped it back onto two legs. There was no way that AJ had been telling the truth. There was no possible way. Courtney hated him; she'd never put herself in a position where she owed him anything. And AJ would stop at nothing in the world to get Michael – was he honestly supposed to believe that a little guilt upon finding out that it was Elizabeth forced his older brother to abandon what he had made his worthless life's mission?

But the doubts continued to roll through his head.

Courtney claimed that she needed to take some time to herself, to get away from Port Charles in general – but something in that brief conversation made him think that she was talking of a specific incident. And Alcazar had become more ruthless in the past weeks, and yet suddenly, it was as if he had vanished into thin air. What if AJ was right, and the moblord really was just biding his time, content and secure in the knowledge that he had something that could bring down not one but two of the most powerful families in Port Charles? He and Sonny had the prime shipping routes on the eastern seaboard while the Quartermaines had the best waterfront property; if any of this was true, Alcazar had struck gold.

What if AJ was right?

* * *

The warehouse was beginning to come to life as the sun rose to claim Port Charles. He could hear the guards and staff start to trickle in, talking about last night's game or last night's hot date. The smell of freshly brewed Corinthos-Morgan coffee wafted down the hallways from the massive staff lounge and the paperboy had just finished hauling in the morning stack of papers. The nighttime custodians were leaving, already storing their brooms and mops away in the supply closets as the employees filed into the building.

Jason's strides were long and purposeful as he marched through the third-floor hallways. He had been unable to sleep since Courtney's phone call a couple hours ago and still wore his worn blue jeans and rumpled t-shirt under the omnipresent leather jacket. He hadn't bothered to shave since the morning before, and his jaw was now lined with prickly dark blonde stubble, making him look all the more haggard and unkempt.

But appearance was the last thing on his mind as he rounded the corner to the relatively secluded east wing where the top men in the Corinthos-Morgan organization set up shop. He made his way toward the third door on the right and pushed it open without bothering to knock.

"Benny."

The aging accountant looked up from the reports on his desk, his expression grim and his eyes bloodshot. Wearily, he tipped his head in greeting and reached for the freshly filled mug of coffee on his desk. "Jason."

"What have you got?"

"You're right – it's like he's disappeared," the accountant replied, thumbing through several small stacks of papers in order to find what he was looking for. He extended the reports to Jason, who scanned them quickly. "Alcazar has halted the majority of his operations in the Tri-State area and hasn't even been seen at his mainland residence – any one of them. Sources indicate that he's retreated to his yacht. We have reason to believe that he has been afloat for the past week, at the very least."

"What else?"

"I'm waiting on Enzo and his team for further reports," Benny replied uneasily, not liking the look in Jason's eyes. "We've had the room of Alcazar's main enforcer bugged, and Enzo is handling the wiretaps. I'm expecting him to check in any moment now."

Jason dropped the stack of reports onto Benny's desk and braced his hands on the edge, leaning closer toward his long-time employee and speaking in a low, determined voice. "I need to know _why _Alcazar's halted operations on the mainland. Last weeks he was in talks with the Swedish financier – Irving. I need more information on that and whether they're any closer to making an alliance. The Sandoval family's been meeting with him since he came to the States; get me a file on that collaboration. I need to know _what_ is making Alcazar think he's got the upper hand."

"I'll take care of it, Jason," Benny assured his boss grimly, clasping his hands over his desk. "But would you by any chance be able to tell me what exactly I'm trying to-"

"There's a chance he has evidence on us." That was as far as Jason was willing to go in terms of an explanation. "I need to know if it's true before I can handle anything."

Benny pursed his lips, knowing from the tone of the younger man's voice that he was worried this time. There were very few things that scared Jason Morgan regarding the business, but whatever this was, it was big. "I'll take care of it, Jason."

"Call me as soon as you hear _anything._"

"Will do, Boss."

Without another word, Jason left the Morgan-Corinthos warehouse and headed straight for Sonny's penthouse, all the while wondering just what in the world he was supposed to tell his best friend.

* * *

"He's laying low and I don't like it."

Those were the first words out of Sonny Corinthos' mouth when his right-hand man brought up the topic of one Lorenzo Alcazar.

"I don't either. This time is different. This time-"

"This time it's like he has something on us," Sonny finished, his obsidian eyes trained on his stoic enforcer.

Jason nodded grimly, rubbing his chin as his best friend turned around and poured himself half a glass of bourbon. "He's not cocky, like he was before. He's waiting, biding his time, and no one knows anything."

"You said you had Benny on it, right?" Sonny looked to Jason for affirmation. "Then we'll know soon enough."

A tense silence lingered between the men and Jason turned toward the balcony, hoping that Sonny didn't read anything besides frustration in his eyes. He hadn't told Sonny about everything that AJ had told him; Sonny would never believe it. In fact, Jason himself was surprise to find that he was gradually beginning to. Still, he refused to fully consider the charge until Benny came up with some information. Time was a key factor in this situation; if Alcazar moved first, things would get very bad very soon. But their accountant always managed to win the race against time, and Jason could only hope that his luck would hold out.

If Benny found the answers that AJ had claimed to be true, then he'd have to tell Sonny everything and they'd both have to find a way to move on from there. Until then, he was going to keep it to himself.

"I think it's best that Courtney's away right now." Sonny's voice broke through Jason's silent reverie. "I would send Carly and Michael to the island, too, but if I can't come up with something better than a hunch or suspicion, Carly'll fight me tooth and nail on it."

Jason didn't answer, though he agreed: it _was_ best that Courtney was away right now. It was best that she stayed at the island until he had all the answers he was looking for; only then would he trust himself to be able to deal with the situation.

He glanced at the clock that ticked loudly above Sonny's desk. It was mid-morning; AJ had probably managed to crawl back to the Quartermaine mansion by now. Either that, or he was at the hospital getting his broken ribs patched up.

Shrugging his shoulders to relieve the tension that had gathered there, Jason looked at the clock one last time, preparing to leave. He was just about to tell Sonny that he'd call him if he heard anything when footsteps thundered down the stairs and the next thing he knew, a five-year-old redhead was launching himself into his arms.

"Jason! Jason! You're here!"

Despite the lack of sleep and the weight of the Alcazar situation, Jason's face relaxed and he grinned down at the little boy in his arms. "Hey, Buddy, you're up early."

"I have to go to school," the child informed him. "Mom says I have to get up early because I take so long getting ready, but _she's _the one that takes forever!" Sonny chuckled as he watched Michael rub his fingers over his cheek and around his eyes, illustrating why Carly took so long in the mornings. "Are you staying for breakfast?"

"I can't, Buddy – I've got to get to work, too."

Michael's face fell, and his plush bottom lip stuck out in a childish pout. "Aww, do you _have _to? I never see you anymore. You're always at work or the hospital."

The light in Jason's eyes dimmed. "I know, Michael, and I'm sorry. But you know that your Aunt Emily is really sick right now, and she's just starting to get better. It's important that I spend time with her."

"And Lizabeth," Michael agreed, and Jason looked over the little boy's shoulders to see Carly descend the steps, rolling her eyes at the mention of the petite brunette. "Mom said she had an accident, and she doesn't remember who she is and that you're the only one she'll talk to."

Carly huffed as she passed the three men on her way to the coffee Sonny had left out on the dining table for her, but Michael paid her no heed as he looked to his uncle for a response.

"That's right, Buddy. She's not doing too great right now, either."

"I went and sawed Aunt Emmy on Monday," Michael announced happily. "I brought her flowers, and she really liked them. Mom says we're gonna go again soon, and that I can stop and see Lizabeth, too, if I want. I made her something that I think she'll really like."

Jason looked over at Sonny, concerned, but his old friend nodded wisely. "Michael, you remember what I told you about Elizabeth?"

The boy turned over his shoulder to look at his father. "Uh-huh. You said not to be sad if she doesn't remember my name, and try not to talk too much about the stuff we used to do. I'm not gonna do that – I'm just gonna give her my picture and say that I hope she feels better. I don't wanna make her mad or sad."

"You'll be fine," Jason assured the boy, hoping that he was right. The new Elizabeth wasn't much for children, even the ones that she had been remarkably close to in the past, like Lulu Spencer. "Listen, why don't you go get ready for school, and I'll stop by tonight and tuck you in? Okay?"

"Okay," the boy nodded happily, already hopping out of his uncle's arms and racing back toward the stairs. "Bye, Jason!"

Carly's eyes were on her best friend the whole time and as soon as Michael was out of earshot, she spoke up. "You leaving, Jason?"

He locked eyes with Sonny, a silent understanding passing between the two men. "Yeah, I'm on my way out."

The blonde took a gulp of coffee and swallowed it before setting her mug down on the table again. "You going to the warehouse…or the hospital?"

He paused, his hand on the doorknob and his back to the blonde. "The hospital."

To both his and Sonny's relief, Carly didn't say anything and just took another sip of her coffee. Jason pulled the door open, nodded to Max, and pulled it shut behind him. Sonny glanced at his wife, watching as she set down her mug and moved toward the stairs, her partly open white robe billowing behind her.

"She's still found a way to get her hooks into him," was all the blonde said, knowing that she didn't need to clarify whom she meant. "Some things never change."

Sonny let out a slow sigh as his wife ascended the steps to help Michael get ready and rubbed his hand over the dark stubble that had formed on his jaw and chin. He should have known better than to expect anything else from Carly.

* * *

"Jason!"

He stopped in mid-step and cringed upon hearing his mother's voice. He had been lucky enough to avoid his parents during most of his recent visits to the hospital, but apparently his luck had run out this morning. Letting out a sigh that sounded more like a growl, he turned and met Monica's curious gaze.

"Are you here to see Emily?" Her small smile widened when he nodded. "Guess who was in her room half an hour ago?"

He wasn't much for guessing games; instead, he just shoved his hands into his pockets and quirked his brow, waiting for Monica to tell him.

"Elizabeth!" His mother's eyes were bright and pleased. "She wanted to visit Emily a while ago, but they kept missing each other. But finally, they got together this morning and you know, Jason, I think it did them both a lot of good." Monica knew she was rambling in an attempt to hold her son's attention, but she couldn't help it. Jason had become a frequent visitor to the hospital since Emily and Elizabeth were brought in, and even though it was selfish of her, she wasn't above using his visits to snatch a few minutes of his company.

"That's good," Jason replied honestly. "Is Elizabeth still there?"

Monica shook her head. "Emily was tired and went back to sleep, and Elizabeth said she wanted to eat lunch a little early. One of your guards – I think Francis is his name – went out to Kelly's and got her a sandwich and some coffee."

He nodded, already backing up a step in an awkward attempt to extricate himself from her watchful gaze. "I'm going to go check in with Elizabeth-"

"Oh, Jason, I'm sorry – she already went to her physical therapy appointment." Monica's eyes were apologetic as Jason's shoulders sagged. "She's got her heart set on getting out of here in about two or three days, no matter what Alan and I say, and she wanted to get that out of the way as soon as she could. She said something about how she hated being thought of as handicapped and how she planned on running circles around her coach."

There was light laughter in his mother's voice, but Jason wasn't amused. He rolled his shoulders again, trying to ease the tension that had taken up residence there. "Okay, if neither of them are around right now…I'll just come back later."

Monica nodded jerkily as Jason tipped his head at her and excused himself hastily, already heading toward the elevators. With a soft sigh, she turned and walked briskly back to the Intensive Care Unit where Alan was getting ready for a surgery. Jason would be back soon enough.

* * *

Jake's eyes landed on him as soon as he set foot in Jake's for a very late lunch. He had gotten stuck at the warehouse and didn't feel right leaving until he felt he had things under control, and now there was nothing he wanted more than a sandwich and a cold beer. As soon as he was done, he'd be going back to the hospital to see Elizabeth. If there was any chance – any chance at all that she remembered anything about the accident – he wanted to know. But he wasn't going to push. In fact, he knew it was pointless to talk to her about the accident until he had iron-clad evidence that AJ was telling the truth. Still, something inside nagged him to stop by and see the petite brunette.

The blonde matron already had a cold beer waiting for him as Jason took his seat, and in a matter of minutes she produced his usual order. Jason had just taken his first bite when she reached behind the counter and pulled out a sealed envelope.

"AJ was here a little while ago." Her voice was bland and betrayed nothing. "He said to give this to you."

She slid the envelope across the counter and waited for him to claim it. Jason stared at her then heavily dropped his hand on the paper. Jake backed away and retreated to the far end of the counter to serve a couple of the guards another round.

Cramming half of his sandwich into his mouth with one bite, Jason studied the closed envelope. After a long pull from his bottle, he turned it over and easily ripped it open, pulling out a single piece of paper. It was a short typed note addressed to AJ and bore the signature of one Lorenzo Alcazar. Jason's grip on his bottle tightened as he carefully read each line.

Apparently, Mr. Alcazar had seen it fit to _request the presence_ of his older brother for a one-time meeting three days from now on the docks by Elm Street. If AJ didn't show, he would not be pleased with what would happen next, the note informed him. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the arrangement that Mr. Alcazar had proposed at an earlier meeting.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as Jason crumpled the note in his fist. Alcazar must have been very sure of himself if he was cocky enough to send AJ a personal note. But then again, he wouldn't put it past his older brother to have forged the entire thing to back up his story.

He glanced at his watch and swore. It was already late afternoon and he had still heard nothing from Benny. Shoving the note in his pocket and the last of the sandwich in his mouth, Jason drained his bottle and headed for the door. The hospital would have to wait.

* * *

Benny was on the phone when Jason walked in, and he could tell from the look on the accountant's face that a report concerning Alcazar was coming in. He waited tensely in front of the desk, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as Benny listened carefully to the speaker on the other end, his pen moving quickly across a stenography pad.

After a few grunts and mono-syllabic replies, Benny hung up and turned around to face his boss. "I've got what you wanted."

Jason braced himself when the older man handed him the pad. As he skimmed it, Benny began to relay the specifics.

"Talks with Irving fell through; there's no more to be done on that. The Sandovals – the ones that relocated from the West Coast, have their eye on the syndicate here. They're looking to take down the five families and set up operations on the east coast. The long-term goal is to merge with the West Coast syndicate and run a transcontinental operation like the one Don Rosales originally planned to about forty years ago."

The accountant clasped his hands over the front of the desk, watching as Jason scanned his block print. "The Sandoval family saw its resources somewhat significantly depleted during the transition, and saw it as no coincidence that at the same time they made the move here, Alcazar showed up from overseas. There's been talk of a collaboration between the two organizations; ideally, Alcazar would help finance the takeover and his people would run things with the Sandoval family."

"More on Alcazar."

"Ah," Benny nodded, loosening his tie and glancing away from Jason in an uncharacteristic display of apprehension. "Enzo recorded two conversations that could be about what you said earlier. Stan transcribed them and faxed them over to the office and…here."

Jason's phone rang at the exact moment that Benny handed him a stack of papers bearing the transcription of Enzo's recordings. Letting out an irritated sigh, he quickly flicked it open. "Morgan."

"_I need you at the penthouse now. Something's come up."_

"I'll be there in five minutes."

Without another glance at Benny, Jason tucked the papers into a manila folder and left the office, leaving the accountant to rub his temples wearily, exceedingly relieved that he would not be present when Jason read the content of those reports.

* * *

"They want a meeting."

"What?"

"The Sandoval family wants a meeting," Sammy Tagliati clarified as Jason stared at Sonny. In the hours that had transpired since Jason had left the penthouse that morning, Sonny had received word from both the Sandoval family and the other families that there was to be a meeting. Since Sonny's stronghold was most convenient in terms of location, the other families had quickly dispatched a representative and now several men with dark suits and darker hair prowled Sonny's penthouse, polluting the air with thick cigar smoke.

Sonny had already asked Carly and Leticia to keep Michael at the Brownstone until he called them, and the mob boss now paced his penthouse, dressed only in his pressed trousers with his white oxford shirt rolled up to the elbows.

The enforcer for the DeGiacammo family had already opened up the bourbon and Sonny was passed a glass, which he accepted gratefully and downed smoothly. Jason looked around the expansive main room of his best friend's penthouse, leveling each man with a strong but neutral look. He didn't trust the vast majority of them further than he could throw them, but whether he liked it or not, they were all in this together.

With a sigh, he tossed his keys and phone onto Sonny's desk and shrugged out of his leather jacket, draping it on the back of the chair. Dressed now in his dark denim jeans and a clean navy sweater, he crossed his arms over his chest and glanced around wearily. "What do we know?"

The eldest son of Don Rinaldi snorted as he set his drink down on a coaster. He may be a mobster, but that didn't mean he lacked manners. "Nothing – that's just the problem."

Sammy ran a dark hand through his slicked back hair and braced the other hand on his hip as Sonny continued to pace in front of him. "We received word that the Sandoval family would like to meet with the heads of the five families and any other necessary parties at a time of our convenience. They claim that since they are new arrivals to the eastern seaboard, they wish to start things off on the right foot."

"We were given a few tentative dates," Sonny spoke up, rubbing his hand over his mouth, "and a few locations."

"They're all fairly neutral," sighed Don Giagnorio. "One for each territory represented by the organization."

"We have to do it," Sonny agreed wearily. "No one here likes it, but we all agree that it has to be done."

Jason nodded, understanding the implications. "Who's coming?"

"You and me, and I figure we can take Johnny and Max," Sonny answered, slipping his hands into his pocket as he turned to face the room. "Don Rinaldi isn't going to be able to make it, so Ernesto will be taking his place."

The man in question nodded. "I'll be bringing my enforcer, Emmanuel, as well as Grimes." A wave of murmurs ran through the room as the men agreed.

Don Giagnorio lifted two fingers. "I will be present, along with my son, Mario, and our two enforcers."

Sammy and a grey-haired don looked at each other, and the younger man was the first to speak. "Don Ciccio and I will be bringing our enforcers, two of our top guards, and our top legal aide."

The head of the final family nodded sagely. "I'll be there with my brother, our enforcer, and the head of the business organization."

"Twenty-five, even," Sonny murmured. "From their side, we're expecting Don Sandoval and his four sons. I think that as far as location goes, it should be here in Port Charles."

A chorus of both protests and agreement rose, but quieted down as Sonny raised his hand. "The No Name has several concealed rooms in the back that have withstood raids in the past. This is the territory that Lorenzo Alcazar is most after, in this town, and we have good reason to believe that the Sandoval family is seeking to forge an alliance with him."

Don Giagnorio stood up abruptly from his seat on the couch. "How can you know this? We've heard nothing-"

"I will have my men send over reports as soon as possible and get you all up to speed," Sonny assured them as Jason took up his usual position behind his right shoulder. "We may be able to lure Alcazar into some type of action that will allow us an advantage," he reasoned. "Also, it is possible for us to fortify the No Name with our men just in case something goes wrong. The time for an official syndicate meeting in Port Charles is very good right now; the police still give us some trouble, but the elections this past year were very good for us. I think it will go down smoothly if we agree to meet here."

Jason looked around the room as Sonny finished off his speech and he could see the wheels turning in the representatives' heads. There wasn't a single man in the room that liked the idea, but he knew enough to know that the situation wasn't any better in their own respective neck of the woods. Sonny was right; Port Charles was the best option.

"I accept," Sammy finally spoke up, earning a somber tip of Sonny's head.

"So do I," added Don Ciccio.

"I accept on my father's behalf," agreed the oldest Rinaldi son.

"I will be here," Don DeGiacammo wearily sighed.

Giagnorio was the last one to hold out, but even he finally relented. "Now that we are all decided on that matter, what do we do next?"

"Now," Sonny began, casting a look at Jason over his shoulder, "we plan."

* * *

"Jason, dear." Lila Quartermaine smiled brightly up at him as he stepped off the elevator, and Jason couldn't help but smile back. Casting a weary glance at his grandfather who stood behind her wheelchair, he slowly knelt and took her wrinkled hand in his.

"Hello, Grandmother."

"It's quite late, dear," she noted in a serious voice, and Jason couldn't help it when the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"For you and me both."

The older woman's eyes twinkled. "We were here to see the girls," she informed him, looking up at her husband who nodded stiffly. "I felt well enough to get out of the house, and thought I'd make the best of it. They're both doing so much better, Jason."

Edward cleared his throat gruffly when he saw Jason's eyes twinkle. It was troubling that the only time the Quartermaine family could pull together was during a health crisis, but he had come to terms with that and accepted it as it was. He knew that despite how Jason may feel toward the rest of the family, his feelings for Emily ran deep – as did his feelings for Elizabeth. He still remembered how Jason had accepted his strength upon learning that the spirited artist's life was in danger; it was quite out of character but it was a rare moment of meaningful communication between the two of them. He knew Jason would never act on that again and would sooner forget about it, and he wasn't going to bring it up himself, either, if it caused the young man any discomfort. Sometimes, it was best to accept a situation as a result of circumstance and move on.

"Elizabeth fell asleep while we were with her," he informed his grandson, "but Emily is still awake and I'm sure she'd like to see you."

"Oh, she'd like that very much," Lila agreed, patting Jason's hand. "Why don't you go see her now, darling? She has enough energy to run a marathon. It's beautiful." He smiled at that and she patted his hand again before releasing it. "Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, Grandmother."

He stood and moved back, holding the elevator open for Edward as he pushed Lila inside, and then turned and walked toward Emily's room. He was disappointed that he had missed Elizabeth again, but at least Emily was up for a visit. His little sister was propped up in bed playing with a small puzzle composed of several pieces of oddly shaped wood that somehow fit together, and a bright smile lit up her face when he quietly stepped in.

"Jason," she sighed happily as he leaned down to hug her. "I'm so glad you came."

"And _I'm_ glad you're so much better," he informed her, settling down close to her side. "When are they gonna let you out of here?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not really sure; probably not for a while. Some days are really good – like today – but other days aren't. Mom and Dad just want to keep an eye on me and make sure I don't take another dive."

He nodded, his eyes lingering on the puzzle she was playing with. "What's that?"

Another grin lit up her face, making her eyes sparkle. "Elizabeth gave it to me today." She laughed at the surprised look in his eyes. "Yeah, she gave it to me. She was here today, you know."

"I heard," he replied quietly, taking the puzzle from her fingers and studying it.

Emily's eyes dimmed slightly as she recounted the events from earlier in the day. "It's so strange sometimes, Jason. She's…She's a lot like Lucky was when he came back after the fire. It's so easy to forget that she doesn't…remember all the stuff we used to do, or everything that's happened. I spent most of my time trying to fill her in on everything, but she made me stop because she was afraid I'd tire myself out."

Emily's hazel eyes lingered on her brother as he stared down at the puzzle, idly fiddling with the pieces. "She's so different, but in a lot of ways, she's the same. She seems…stronger now. Does that seem weird? I mean, she just had this horrible accident, she's in a hospital for crying out loud, but she just seemed…strong. She was strong in a quiet way. It's something that I've never really seen in her." She smiled to herself, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "She kind of reminds me of you."

His cerulean orbs shot up to meet his sister's at that remark. "What?"

She could sense that he didn't like that very much and did her best to put him at ease. "I just mean that she's a bit different now. She could so easily slip into depression or a woe-is-me mindset, but she's tough, you know? She's not going to go down like that. It's like she knows that she's the only one she can count on to take care of herself; if she wants to be fine, then she will be. And she doesn't talk that much anymore; she's like you in that way, too. She doesn't say something just to say something, and when she does talk, you can tell she's carefully thought about what she's going to say. And she doesn't sugar-coat or bull-shit. You're both alike that way."

It still didn't sit well with him, but he nodded, understanding what his little sister meant.

"And did you know that she's got this, like, really freaky deal with numbers going on?" Emily asked with a strange smile of disbelief. "I mean, she picks up on all the little details and puts them together, and you can just tell she sees things differently now. It's pretty cool."

A boyish grin tugged on the corner of his mouth, and Emily was surprised to see her big brother's cerulean eyes twinkle. "Yeah, I noticed."

She smiled back at him, playing with the edge of her blanket. She knew it was somewhat sensitive territory, but that didn't stop her from asking. "Are you gonna go see her now?"

Jason shook his head. "Edward said she was asleep; I don't want to bother her."

Emily nodded. "Okay, gotcha. She said that she was going to do her best to bust out of here in about two days. She managed to convince her PT coach that she can walk and run and everything else, and that she's not some sort of vegetable. You can tell that it bugs her when people try to treat her like she's fragile. I mean, she's mostly healed from the accident – like, she still has a couple cuts, but they're healing, too – and even though she can't remember, it's not like she's made of glass. She hates it when people treat her like she is."

Jason looked down at the puzzle in his hands and turned it over, running his finger along the edge. "I know."

He could feel his sister's eyes resting on him as she played with the sheets. "Jason…what do _you_ think?"

"About what?"

"About her leaving the hospital." Emily was nibbling on her lower lip when he looked up at her, and Jason found himself wondering for a moment if she had picked up that habit from her best friend. "Do you think she's ready?"

He weighed his words carefully, finally settling on replying, "I think that Elizabeth knows what she's feeling best. I get that Alan and Mulrow are worried about her, but I don't think she's out to endanger her health or her recovery by leaving too soon."

"I think so, too," Emily replied, relieved. "I thought I was the only one. John wants to keep her here for observation, but I told him he'd better not even _say_ that to Elizabeth or she might hurt him."

Jason rolled his eyes at the mention of the doctor but kept quiet.

"But what about…do you think she's ready to get on with her life? I mean, not like that," Emily added hastily, pressing her fingers to her temples. "I mean, where is she going to stay? Is she going to get a job right away? Does she have any plan?"

Jason scratched his jaw with a heavy sigh. "She hasn't talked about that; I didn't want to force her to. But I'm starting to see that Elizabeth doesn't really do anything without a plan."

That brought a hesitant smile to his sister's face and she nodded to herself, doing her best to suppress a yawn. "Okay, okay, that's good. Yeah. And, I mean, it's not like Mom and Dad are going to just let her drift away or anything. I'm sure they'll try to move her into the house or at least set her up at the hotel or something."

"Not that she'll agree," Jason finished confidingly, earning a smile from the younger woman.

"Never," Emily chirped. "After all, they'd just treat her like she was glass."

"And we've already established that she hates that," Jason agreed, amused, as he set her puzzle onto her night table. "And you can stop holding back your yawns, Em; I can tell you're exhausted. I'm gonna head out."

She pouted at him when he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "But Jason, I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are," he informed her, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. "Get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," she got out around a yawn. "Sorry you missed Elizabeth. I guess I wore her out."

Jason smiled at her and dimmed the lights. "Night, Emily."

"Night, Jason."

* * *

It was late when he got back to his penthouse – very late. He had told himself he wasn't going to disturb Elizabeth, but that hadn't stopped him from creeping into her room and watching her as she slept. He had no idea how long he stayed, but he was beginning to realize that it was too long. His tired and aching muscles protested bitterly as he let himself into the penthouse and shrugged out of his jacket. He hadn't slept in two days and what with the crises that had developed over forty-eight hours, it was definitely catching up to him.

His answering machine was silent in the dark penthouse, indicating that his fiancé had not called. And Jason didn't care. He set his phone and keys down on the desk and was about to run upstairs to catch a few hours of sleep when he noticed the file that he had left on the desk before going to Sonny's penthouse for the meeting with the families.

In his rush, he had been unable to read through the transcripts and now, he wanted to kick himself for it. It was very unlike him to let something like that slip his mind, but then again, today had hardly been a normal day.

Muttering under his breath, he stalked back to his desk and snatched up the manila folder before turning on the lights. Wearily, he shuffled over toward the pool table where the light was the best and leaned against the wood as he thumbed through the pages. The first few were inconsequential; he could see why Enzo and Benny saw fit to include them, but he knew they were irrelevant.

After quickly ruffling past those first few pages, Jason slowed his pace. One page in particular caught his eye and he pulled it out of the packet. His intense eyes hungrily scanned each word before he reached for the next page, then the next. His knees buckled as the full meaning of the words washed over him, and Jason leaned back heavily against the pool table. It was all right there, in neat black typeface on a clean white page.

AJ was right.


	20. 20

**Note: **Phar Fig Newton, my pink pony, has magical fic powers. I mean, that can be the only explanation for why I'm an updating fiend!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

"You sure you don't want to…wait?"

"What the hell would I wait for, Francis?" Elizabeth snapped, hurriedly scrawling her signature down on the appropriate line and handing the forms back to the nervous nurse. She watched as the young woman set the clipboard aside and hesitantly extended another one toward her, meekly asking her to sign on the dotted lines. The brunette rolled her eyes and obliged, wondering why all the nurses in the hospital seemed to be so afraid of her.

"I didn't mean a _what_," Francis replied witheringly, glancing at his watch. "I meant a…who."

The brunette looked up at him humorlessly. "A who."

The bodyguard fidgeted. "…Yes."

"A Jason kind of who?"

"…Maybe."

The tension lifted when the young woman smirked at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Honestly, Francis, why is everyone so scared of me? What – do I look like I'm going to start biting people's heads off or something? You can just say whatever's on your mind, you know."

"I know that," he replied defensively. "Fine, I'll try again. I was just wondering if you weren't going to wait for Jason to come before signing out of the hospital."

She shook her head, finishing up with the forms. "I don't want to bother him. He's been gone for the past two days – Emily Quartermaine said it looked like he had a lot of business things on his mind. He'd be here if he could, but I'm not going to call him up and tell him to drop everything just to walk me to the elevator. Besides," she smiled up at him, the picture of sardonic warmth and love. "What do I need crotchety old Morgan for when I've got you three strapping men around?"

Max and Johnny, who had just arrived and were standing behind Francis, blushed and shifted uncomfortably.

"Hello, boys," Elizabeth greeted them with a catty smile as she slid the forms across the counter to the wary nurse. "Miss me?"

"You know it, Elle," Johnny smirked back, using the nickname she seemed to prefer over her full first name. "You ready to blow this Popsicle stand?"

"More than ready," she sighed, tipping her head at the nurse behind the counter and leading the group to the elevators. She had already said goodbye to Emily, and with a little bit of luck she'd be able to get out of General Hospital without being spotted by the well-meaning but overbearing Drs. Quartermaine, the Spencer psycho, or the irritating and pretentious Dr. Mulrow.

"All right, boys," she grinned, sauntering into the elevator and waiting as they climbed aboard. "First things first – let's find me some new digs."

* * *

Sonny glanced up as Jason walked in through the penthouse door and gently set the phone back on its cradle. His enforcer had been out for the past two days working mainly with Benny and Enzo, and it was time for them to touch base on the problems with Alcazar. "Jason, good, I'm glad you're here. Don Ciccio-"

"Courtney did it."

The kingpin looked at him as if he had three heads. "…Did what?"

Jason tossed a worn manila file of wrinkled and some half-crumpled papers onto his best friend's desk. He stared wearily at the mobster, and Sonny suddenly noticed how exhausted he looked. "Courtney ran into Elizabeth with her car."

Sonny let out a strangled chuckle, certain that this was some kind of joke. "Jason-"

"While on drugs."

The mob lord's obsidian eyes widened at the accusation, and Jason watched him purse his lips into a thin line. "Jason-"

"Then she accepted AJ's help in covering it up."

"Enough!" Sonny looked more bewildered than angry as he held up his hand. "Jason…what are you saying?"

"Courtney ran into Elizabeth with her car while on drugs, then accepted AJ's help in covering it up," he repeated blandly. "It's all in the file on your desk."

Sonny didn't touch the folder. "And you know this because…"

Again, the enforcer's eyes revealed nothing. "I had Cortega's room tapped."

His boss' eyes widened at the mention of Alcazar's top aide. "You did _what_? Do you know how-"

"Benny arranged it and Enzo handled it," Jason continued as if Sonny hadn't spoken. "You said before that it was like Alcazar had evidence on us – now we know what it is."

"You want to spell it out for me?" Sonny growled, irritated, as he scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "What does Alcazar have on us, and how does it connect back to my sister and _your_ fiancé?"

"After Courtney hit Elizabeth with her car, she kept on going," Jason replied in a cold, hard voice. "She let AJ help her – he took the car and hid it in an unused Quartermaine warehouse. Alcazar found out and had the car moved. Now he knows that his enemy's sister was driving under the influence and committed a hit and run, then fled the country because she had no intentions of owning up to it."

A stunned silence followed, and then Sonny exploded. "Why didn't you say anything about this sooner?"

"I couldn't!" Jason responded hotly, tempted to slam his fist down on the desk and upset his boss' precious fixtures. "I couldn't believe it myself!"

"And you expect _me_ to believe-"

"I don't expect anything," he responded curtly, reining in his temper. There was a time and place for that, and it wasn't here – not with Carly and Michael upstairs. "Read the file. It's all there."

And with that, Jason Morgan turned square on his heel and stormed out of the penthouse with the full intention of going to Jake's and getting drunk.

* * *

"Another."

The rookie bartender that Jake had hired two weeks ago eyed him nervously, knowing that the man before him had had more than enough, but not about to refuse an enforcer's order. Wordlessly, he slid another bottle toward Jason and quickly drew his hand back when the enforcer immediately snatched it up and took a long pull.

It had been two days since he first read the contents of the report that Benny had handed him. He hadn't slept at all the first night; instead, he sat on the couch that his fiancé had picked out and pored over every single word of the transcribed conversations over and over again, trying to find some indication that it was all a lie. But the cold, stark words stared back at him from the crisp white page. It was no lie.

AJ had been right, and Jason had been too blind to see it.

The next day had been spent in a whirlwind of activity; he couldn't have stopped to contact Sonny about this even if he had wanted to. He had worked all through the night and the following morning and hightailed it straight to Benny and demanded that Enzo be present as well.

Once the men were assembled, he had lost his temper and fairly demanded that they tell him it was all a set-up. Benny and Enzo had apologetically informed him that they could do no such thing, and that was when Jason had first began to accept the unfortunate truth.

His fiancé, the woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with, had lied to him.

She had run over Elizabeth and hadn't even stopped to see that she was all right. She had been on drugs at the time and he hadn't even known. She had accepted help from his enemy, and now another enemy had control of the evidence and would use it against them at the drop of a hat.

And she had never once intended to come clean. Instead, she had run off to the island to sunbathe and swim while Elizabeth fought for her life under the knife and then woke up without a clue as to who she was. She had intended to stay away until this mess had blown over and everything was neat and tidy once more.

Jason scowled, his hand wrapping so tightly around the bottle that it was a wonder the glass didn't crack. He hadn't received a call from Sonny; most likely, the mob boss was still trying to process the information. He didn't know what Sonny would do, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was what he himself planned to do.

And at the moment, he had no clue. All he knew was that he couldn't go back to that penthouse, filled with her plants and her candles and her precious picture frames filled with awkward candid shots of them and their friends. He couldn't go back to it, otherwise he'd be tempted to shatter everything.

At least when he had suffered through a car accident, he hadn't been left alone in the snow as if he didn't matter to a soul in the world.

Tears stung his eyes and he took another long pull of his bottle. Jake's hummed and droned around him, and that annoying young bartender kept wiping the same spot over and over with his damn rag.

Jason stood on slightly wobbling legs and pitched his bottle into the trashcan, not bothering to acknowledge the bartender as he shuffled around the counter to get his own beer. The young man opened his mouth to protest, but wisely snapped it shut before he got his face kicked in. He might have been new to the dive, but he was no stranger to dangerous men in dangerous moods.

The enforcer collapsed onto the stool once more, fumbling for a minute with the top of his beer bottle. He got it off and stared at the carbonated beverage, his brows pulled low as he scowled at the liquid. Drinking wouldn't make things better – he'd have hell to pay in the morning – but for tonight, he just wanted to get good and drunk and pass out upstairs. It seemed like a fitting end to the day.

* * *

"None of this stuff is going to work," Elizabeth huffed, frowning at the clothes that Johnny, Max and Francis had piled atop her new bed. "I mean, look at this – flowery skirts, miniskirts, backless tanks, hot pants…and is this a pink hoodie? I did _not_ have good taste in clothes."

Johnny shrugged. "I don't know, I thought you always looked nice. Very put together," he added quickly when she smirked lasciviously at him. "Shut up."

Max was chuckling as Francis helped Elizabeth dig through the mound of apparel. "You dressed like the other girls your age, Elle," he informed her, pulling the wooden chair out from the large desk in the room and plopping down wearily. He had spent all day helping the brunette move her stuff out of her old studio since the lease had recently expired and she wasn't too keen on returning there. And now, he'd let Johnny and Francis do most of the work. "You weren't overly-girly, if that's what you're asking."

"Grab me that garbage bag, will you, John?" the brunette asked, quickly opening it as soon as it was handed to her. "This stuff is going to the salvation army five minutes ago."

Francis exchanged glances with Johnny but helped her separate the clothes regardless. All three men wondered if the young woman's sudden philanthropic urges had more to do with the fact that she didn't want to wear _Elizabeth's_ clothes and less to do with the flowers.

"I'm going to need all new stuff," she muttered, cramming the colorful sweaters and flirty silk camisoles into the bag. "God, I can't believe I _wore _this."

Before long, they managed to get all of the articles she deemed unworthy into multiple garbage bags, which they set out in the hall. After that, cleaning up was a breeze. Elizabeth organized her books on the provided bookshelf, packed her girly figurines and knick-knacks into a box – Francis had suggested that she might want to hang on to them instead of smashing them with a hammer, per her original plan – and hung up the few clothes that she had kept. The jeans and t-shirts and underwear went into the drawer of the old bureau in her room, and her long coat, sweaters, and shoes went into the surprisingly spacious closet.

"That ought to do it," she sighed, looking around the sparsely decorated room. "Yeah, that's not too bad."

"You want us to come with you to get clothes later on?" Johnny asked, earning bewildered looks from Max and Francis. "What? Mrs. Corinthos used to drag me shopping almost every day – I'm immune to it now."

But the brunette just shook her head. "That won't be necessary, Johnny."

The men nodded shortly, unsure of what to do next. They would have lingered on a bit longer – perhaps offered to bring up some food and rent a movie – but Elizabeth wasn't in to that anymore. She didn't ramble like she used to, and they could just picture the look on her face if they suggested renting one of her favorite musicals. Still, they stuck around, fidgeting awkwardly as she straightened the bedspread of her bed and fixed the blinds.

Finally, she turned around with her hands settled lightly on her hips and flashed the three men a ghost of a smile. "Thank you, guys, for doing this. I really appreciate it. I don't think I could have done it this fast on my own."

"It's no problem, Elle," Johnny assured her honestly. "We're happy to help out."

"Anytime you need anything," Francis added, "please – call us. We'll come right over."

"Well, I don't think I'll need to do that any time soon," the young woman smiled, "but thank you anyway. It's nice enough just to have you down the hall – I'm not going to end up bothering you twenty-four hours a day."

"You're not a bother, Elle," Max laughed. "You're _much_ better than Mrs. C. In fact, you're probably the coolest girl we've ever had around. What can I say – occupational hazard."

His friends laughed at that, but Elizabeth barely smirked. "Thanks for everything," she repeated, folding her hands at her waist. "For getting me a room here, getting Jake to give me a job – everything. I won't forget it."

They nodded, uncomfortable with the praise. "Hey," Johnny started, gesturing toward the clock. "You wanna get some food or something? We can go downstairs and find something – or order in. Whatever you want to do."

Elizabeth punched his arm affectionately as she passed the desk, scooping up her wallet. "How about a rain check? I want to head out on my own for a bit."

"Where are you going?" Francis asked, concerned. "One of us can accompany you-"

"I wanted to go over to the hospital and see Emily Quartermaine again," she told him, lingering with her hand on the doorknob as Francis quickly grabbed his suit jacket and his keys. "I'm going to try to get in without being spotted. She just seemed a little under the weather today, compared to how she's been this week."

"Sounds fine," the bodyguard nodded, holding the door open for her. "Why not bring her some hot chili from Kelly's and have dinner together? I'm sure that would lift her spirits."

"Yeah, let's do that," the brunette agreed, waiting for Max and Johnny to clear out of her room before locking it. The men followed her as she led the way down the stairs to the main level, and Johnny and Max quickly slipped out toward the bar to get some drinks and check out the scene.

"I wonder if Tanya's here tonight," Johnny murmured, scanning the bar as he headed toward the counter. "We had a good time the other night…maybe she's up for another hook-up."

"Hey, John-" Max's dark eyes were trained on a blonde man a few paces away. "Is that…Jason?"

The Irishman stopped looking for his flavor of the week and turned in the direction his best friend pointed. "Yeah…damn, he looks like hell. Wonder what happened."

"Oh, shit, and…he saw us," Max muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Something tells me we'll only make his night worse if we tell him that-"

"Then we won't tell him," Johnny replied quietly, tipping his head at his boss. "Let him find out on his own…preferably when we're outside a ten-mile radius."

The clatter of boots on the wooden stairs behind them drew Jason's attention away from his two bumbling employees, and even in his drunken haze, the enforcer's eyes widened when he saw Elizabeth step down and almost collide with Jake who had just returned to the bar.

"Jake," he watched the young woman nod as she stuck her hand out, pumping the older woman's one firmly. "I just wanted to thank you again for the room and the job – you won't regret it."

Max and Johnny winced as Jason's lethal narrowed orbs fell on the two of them. "No," Johnny muttered, "but we might."


	21. 21

**Mindset 21**

She took the steps two at a time, jogging up to her room after a long night. Her visit with Emily Quartermaine had been quite nice. She had managed to avoid the other woman's parents and that doctor and the two of them had simply sat in her hospital room and enjoyed a bowl of hot chili. The visit cheered Emily up considerably, and she had confessed that she wasn't feeling as good today as she had in previous days.

Inevitably, their conversation had turned to her past life, and Elizabeth had listened as Emily continued to brief her on the sort of person she used to be. Apparently, she was an artist and used to waitress at Kelly's. That had explained the peculiar, somewhat nauseous feeling that had overcome her when she, Johnny, Max and Francis had visited the diner that morning. They said it was where a lot of the younger people worked and lived, but as soon as Elizabeth set foot inside, she knew it wasn't for her. The guards had taken her to Jake's after that and since she felt considerably more at ease there, she decided to stay.

Emily also informed her that she had been raped when she was sixteen years old. Elizabeth didn't know how to react to the news, and fortunately for her, Emily wasn't looking for any particular reaction. The younger brunette had apparently understood when Elizabeth had explained slowly and somewhat unsurely that she didn't know how to feel in regards to the revelations about her past because it seemed to her to be about someone else entirely. Elizabeth Webber and Elle Webber were two entirely different people, she felt, and though the news was disturbing, she believed Emily when she told her that she had moved past it and had been doing quite well.

Also, she had been engaged to that psychotic Spencer kid. Elizabeth found that personally more disturbing than the previous news. She was thankful to learn that she had called off the engagement, and then jumped into a misguided relationship with Emily's ex-boyfriend that was relatively short-lived.

And then came the most surprising news. Emily had told her somewhat hesitantly that she had then moved on with Jason and had been living with him for quite some time at his penthouse.

The news had thrown her for a loop; for some reason, she couldn't envision herself – or her old self, rather – with a man like Jason. He was solid and dependable and quite a comfort, admittedly, and she enjoyed his friendship and support. He never seemed to expect anything from her, and that was refreshing. But after hearing Emily describe their relationship…seeing herself kissing Jason, sleeping with Jason, or otherwise _being_ with Jason just wasn't something she could do. It seemed too strange, too outlandish.

And so she had simply shrugged it off and sat back as the other brunette continued to ramble. She and Jason had apparently broken up and Jason had immediately taken up with his boss' sister, much to her own displeasure. She had moved on with a man named Ric Lansing, but they soon broke up when it was revealed that he was Sonny's brother and apparently a little touched in the head. The man had disappeared soon after and according to Emily, she hadn't been overly consumed with grief at his departure.

Before long, it was late and Elizabeth knew that her 'friend' was tired. Emily had thanked her profusely for coming, saying that it was good to have someone to talk to and something to do. Without fully knowing why, Elizabeth had found herself promising to come back soon. She had taken Emily's soft hand in her own and squeezed it firmly before slipping out the door and returning to Jake's with Francis.

The bodyguard was still downstairs, having run into a couple of the newer hires that had stopped him and asked him to have a few drinks with them. She, however, had enough fun for one night and was surprisingly looking forward to her first night spent out of the oppressive hospital.

She dug her keys out of her pocket and expertly slid them into the lock, remembering Jake telling her that it might stick a little. With a little tug, she got the door open and pushed it aside, stepping into her new place of residence. But the sight in front of her had her stopping dead in her tracks, staring into the dimly lit room as if she were sure that she was seeing things.

Letting out a puzzled huff, Elizabeth turned on her heel and pulled the door shut behind her, marching down the hall to Johnny O'Brien's room and rapping on the door.

Thankfully, the guard wasn't entertaining any female guests at the moment, and when he opened his door, Elizabeth saw only a newspaper sitting on his bed atop the covers. He quirked a brow teasingly at her, one hand falling to his hip. "What's the matter, Elle? I thought you said you weren't going to be bothering me twenty-four-seven just because you lived down the hall."

She looked up at him blandly, crossing her arms over her chest. "John, why is Jason Morgan passed out on my bed?"

The bodyguard actually had the decency to look slightly guilty, and her eyes narrowed as he scratched his head. "…He wanted to snuggle?"

He watched her hand curl into a fist, and when the little brunette took a menacing step toward him, the bodyguard quickly put up both hands in surrender. There was no doubt that he could take her, but he had never fought a girl before and didn't intend to start any time soon. "Okay, okay."

"What's he doing there, John?"

"He…had a bit much to drink," the guard responded hesitantly, eyeing her tightly clenched fists. "He found out that you were working at Jake's and he must not have liked it, because he stomped up here and sat down in your room to wait for you. Max and I tried to get him out of there, but he said he had to talk to you and he'd put us six feet under if we didn't get the hell out of there. So…we got the hell out of there."

"My heroes," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well? What the hell am I supposed to do? He's completely passed out! And he's so huge that he's taking up the whole damn bed!"

"What are you asking me for?" Johnny asked, looking up thankfully when Max dropped by to see what the commotion was all about.

"I take it she found him, huh?" he asked, eyeing the little brunette sheepishly.

"Yeah."

"Did you tell her he wanted to snuggle?…Ow!" The Italian rubbed his arm, angrily glaring at the young woman that had delivered the blow. "No need to get pissy, Elle."

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked again, her hands on her hip as her eyes darted back and forth between her two lunkhead friends. "He weighs three times what I do."

"Hey, don't look at us," Max informed her, holding up his hands. "We're in no rush to get our faces smashed in. Sorry, sunshine, but you're on your own."

"Don't call me sunshine," Elizabeth muttered, pushing her way past the two men and plopping down on Johnny's lone desk chair. "This is just _great._"

Johnny collapsed back on his bed as Max leaned against the doorjamb, his sympathetic eyes on his young friend. "Jason's…difficult sometimes," he managed with a shrug. "He's stubborn. When he said he wanted to talk to you, we knew that nothing we said would get him to leave. So we didn't really bother."

"Can I ask you guys something?" Elizabeth asked abruptly, looking at the two men. Max and Johnny exchanged nervous glances but nodded anyway, and the Italian guard slowly sat down on the beat-up recliner in the corner of the room.

"Go ahead."

"Jason and I…used to date, right?"

A strained silence followed in which both men glared at each other, telling the other to explain. Finally, Johnny spoke up. "Yeah, kinda."

She quirked a brow at him. "What do you mean, kinda?"

"It's a long story," he hedged, rubbing the back of his neck as he stretched out on his bed.

"Where am I going?" Elizabeth asked humorlessly, leaning back in her seat.

The Irishman let out a sigh, obliging her request. "Well, you first became friends one night at Jake's – you remember that, right?"

She nodded absently, remembering how Jason had briefly explained their first encounter and early friendship during her stay at the hospital. "Yeah, and then I found him shot in the snow and helped him recover."

"You basically hid him at your studio and let everyone believe that you were his whore when Nikolas Cassidine discovered you guys," Max piped up, putting up the footrest and leaning back in the recliner.

Elizabeth's brows shot up at that, but she let him continue without interruption.

"He left town a while later, and when he came back, he needed a place to hide again. He came to you and you let him use your studio." Max shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Look, I don't really know what happened when, but…"

"We think that's when Jason first had a hard-on for you," Johnny blurted out blandly, shrugging defensively when Elizabeth almost fell off her chair and shot him a dark glare. "All we know is that he was suddenly really pissy whenever he saw you and that Spencer kid together. Like he wanted to beat his face in."

"And I walked in on the two of you almost kissing once," Max added meekly. "I think you kind of went back and forth between the two of them before you chose Lucky, and then Jason left town."

"When he got back, you finally seemed to get things together," the other guard picked up, "but then you hooked up with that Smith puissant and Jason kind of bowed out. You broke up with him and then you and Jason started living together, but then Sonny faked his death and Jason didn't tell you, so you got mad and left his ass."

"You met Ric Lansing then, and Jason picked up with Sonny's sister about two weeks after you walked out," Max muttered, studiously avoiding Elizabeth's eyes. "Yeah, it was kinda harsh. We all thought so."

"Ric went psycho and Sonny took care of him…and Jason and Courtney got engaged." Johnny flopped back on his comforter, folding his arms under his head and staring up at the ceiling. "And that's where we are now."

"Although if you ask me, it looks like there's trouble in paradise," Max mused, kicking off his shoes and burrowing back in the comfortable recliner. "Courtney's been on the island for a while and Jason's only spoken to her once or twice, by my count. It's like he's avoiding her."

"Well, he's got a lot on his mind right now," Johnny countered with a shrug. "I probably shouldn't say this stuff around you, Elle, but…who are you gonna tell, you know? Things are getting kinda bad with Alcazar – Jason's been busy with the business end of things."

But Elizabeth was barely listening. The guards continued to talk shop, idly speculating about the upcoming meeting with Alcazar and the Five Families, and the state of the shipping routes and waterfront property. However, both men stopped and looked at her when she abruptly swung her legs off the desk and got up, promptly leaving the room and marching down the hall.

Johnny quirked a brow at Max. "Damn, was it something we said?"

* * *

When Jason Morgan awoke, he found himself stretched out on his bed above Jake's. But a closer inspection revealed that it wasn't his room – although it certainly looked very similar. The recliner, the immaculate dresser, the bookshelf laden with books…all of it looked like his. But the one tip-off was the lacy powder blue thong sticking out of the corner of the top drawer of the dresser. 

With a groan, he flopped over onto his back and kept still. Somehow, he had ended up in a woman's room. He wasn't even sure _which_ woman it was, but he hoped to God he hadn't slept with her. He had indulged in quite a few questionable pieces of tail over the past few years, and he couldn't expect his luck to hold out forever.

But the owner of the room didn't show any signs of returning, so Jason stayed where he was. Gradually, he became aware of the fact that he was still completely dressed. His shirt was still tucked into his jeans, which were still buttoned and zipped. The only change was that his socks and boots had been peeled off and probably rested near the bed.

All he had to do was get up and make it down the hall to his own room. Hell, he could even make it to Johnny or Max's rooms – they were probably already at work for the day. Slowly, he rolled over onto his stomach, peering over the edge of the bed. Sure enough, there were his socks and shoes, set neatly together by the foot of the bed.

It took him a minute to sit up and when he had, he didn't bother trying to don his boots. Instead, he simply picked up his shoes and socks and clambered to his feet, wondering if he should leave something for the mysterious boarder whose room he had commandeered for the night.

With a sigh, he fished a few bills out of his pocket and tossed them on the nightstand, more than ready to leave. His skull pounded as he shuffled toward the door, pulling it open quickly and stepping into the hall. It was morning, so Jake's wasn't that busy and he was glad for it. The faint sound of the jukebox made him wince, and Jason quietly shut the door behind him and ambled toward his own door.

Halfway there, a door in the hall opened and Johnny O'Brien stepped out, ready to report to work. He jumped back the instant before he collided with his boss, and opened his mouth to say something. But Jason immediately glared at him, silencing him, and Johnny let him pass without a word.

With a sigh of relief, he reached his own door and finally managed to ease it open. His boots fell on the thin carpet with a dull thud as Jason flipped on the lights, hoping that a shower and a fresh change of clothes followed by a pot of coffee would be enough to do the trick.

But the sight before him had him stopping in his tracks and half-wondering if he was still drunk. Snuggled under his comforter, right in the middle of his bed, was Elizabeth. Her hair was open and fanned out across his pillow, and she had rolled the sheets around herself to form a white cotton cocoon. She was still asleep and would periodically emit little sighs and mews, and Jason could only stare at her.

The memories from the night before came rushing back to him just as he was about to call out to Johnny to explain this mess. She had been at Jake's for some reason – with the guards. She had left with Francis and he had gone to her room to…talk to her about something.

That was all he remembered.

But as he stood there, more memories came flooding back – unwelcome memories. Namely, the memory of the transcripts that Benny had so hesitantly handed over to him; Alcazar's note that AJ had passed on; the conversation with Sonny. The realization that his fiancé had run over Elizabeth with her car and kept on driving.

A mask of granite descended over his features as she pulled his other pillow down to her, wrapping her arms around it and throwing one leg over it as far as her cocoon would allow. Quietly, Jason set his jacket down on his desk chair and ambled toward the bathroom, stripping off his shirt and letting it fall to the floor, forgotten, as he wondered just what the hell he was supposed to do about the mess.


End file.
